


Those Handcuffs

by LeftHand



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Genji Is A Good Bro, M/M, Or does he, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, hanzo is done with everything and everyone, jesse works a bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-01 08:57:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10185650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeftHand/pseuds/LeftHand
Summary: The soulmarks represent a defining moment in your life regarding your soulmate. It could be the first thing they say to you or a special way in which they tell you that they love you. A drawing on your hand or even a signature, jotted brash and brazen for all to see.Hanzo's was a little different.





	1. Chapter 1

Everyone’s soul marks appeared at different times in their lives. His father’s had appeared when he was 13 and in the shower. ‘A Shimada has no right being here.’ Large and bold across his ribs in kanji. His father had always said he’d known his mother would be just as aggressive as her script. 

He hadn’t been wrong. 

His mother’s had been, ‘How could I stay away?’ written in gentle strokes across her neck when she was 18. She said she’d always assumed it’d belonged to a woman. 

That’d made Genji laugh. His appeared when he was 15, rare in the aspect that it wasn’t text, rather a small drawing of a sparrow across the blade of his left shoulder. 

Hanzo spent his childhood waiting for his text to appear.Years passed after Genji’s appeared yet Hanzo’s skin remained untouched. He was heartbroken. 

Sometimes it was just like that, text  _ didn’t  _ appear. There wasn’t a science to soul marks, not really. People had tried and failed to pin an exact reason why sometimes these marks didn’t appear. Scientists around the world had yet to really figure it out. 

Still, he waited.

At age 18 he was still waiting. 

“Son, soulmate or not you’re meant for great things,” his father had said. His chest had swelled with pride and yet his heart had thumped in betrayal. He wanted a soulmate. Genji had one, his father and mother had one. He wanted to know what love was because through all of it, all his grandeur and pride, he wanted what his parents had. He wanted what his brother might one day have. 

When his soulmark  _ did _ appear, he’d swallowed all of his pride immediately. 

Its arrival was heralded to him by Genji’s sudden uncontrollable snickering during morning sword practice. He was 27. 

Genji had dropped his sword, stumbling away to double over, clutching his stomach, tears streaming from his eyes. 

Hanzo looked down, his bared chest the canvas to a large, scrawled text in clear English, purposeful and proud.

‘Those handcuffs would look great on you, sugar.’

He froze for a long while, eyebrows knit together and teeth gritted. 

Genji stopped snickering after a while. 

A hand on his shoulder, “Brother...Are you okay?”

Genji’s question was met with the shocked bark of a laugh. 

 

Hanzo was 38. He’d long since stopped anticipating the arrival of his soulmate, as so many did. 

His father was 40 when he’d met his mother, it was nothing new. It wasn’t strictly uncommon for soulmates to be discovered at the least likely of times. 

In fact, Hanzo should have long since figured that the scrawled text across his right pectoral was from the hand of a person that spat in the face of social constraint. 

“Perhaps he’s a police officer,” Genji sniggered.

Somehow Hanzo doubted it. 

They sat in the quiet bustle of a bar, nursing drinks neither seemed to actually want under the thrum of gentle music. 

“Zen was worth the wait, you know?” Genji smiled suddenly, lips lifting as he brought the glass to them and took a sip. “I had no idea it was going to be him, I mean,” he cut himself off with a chuckle as he caught the withering stare of his brother under a harsh brow. 

Hanzo had heard the story many times.

“You’re probably sick of hearing about it, huh?”

Hanzo grumbled in reply, pushing his drink away and leaning back on the bar stool. 

“It’s okay,” Genji smiled good naturedly, “I understand.”

Hanzo huffed his appreciation.

“You’re  _ jealous _ .” Genji tagged on.

“Another, sugar?” The bartender asked somewhere in the background and Hanzo shook his head, far too preoccupied with shooting daggers at Genji.

“I am not  _ jealous _ .”

“Oh brother of mine, for all your bluster and pride I know full well you want a soulmate just as much as everyone else.” 

Hanzo could say nothing to that. 

Genji ceased his prodding with an amused sigh, “They’ll come in time, brother.” 

Something Hanzo was sure about was that whomever the speaker of the soul mark was they did nothing  _ but _ take their time.

In a lower voice Genji leaned closer, slipping into Japanese, “ _ How are you _ ?”

Hanzo quirked a brow, answering in kind, “ _ No change _ .”

“ _ Tsk, damn _ .” Shaking his head Genji rose from his seat, slapping a note on the bar and skirting around the still seated Hanzo, “ _ If it ever gets worse, I’m not useless. You can ask me for help, brother. You needn’t fight this alone- _ ” 

“Should I need your help I will let you know.” The english words were spoken with a finality that even Genji understood, though the sadness in his eyes betrayed him. With a slow pat on his shoulder, Genji left the bar and out onto the dark streets through the dull wooden double doors. Hanzo watched him go, ignoring the churning in his gut through polishing off both his and the remainder of Genji’s drink.

It was late, too late to be drinking alone on a Wednesday night no matter how badly his fingers itched for another sake to dull the sudden restlessness under his skin. 

The bartender kept giving him looks, as if he wanted to say something. 

Hanzo sighed a little, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. 

“Somethin’ on your mind?” 

Hanzo didn’t even want to look. The bar was practically empty; the place was really just a cozy hole in the wall that played music that didn’t make Hanzo want to glass himself.

“No.”

Thank whatever god there may be for small mercies, his response was met with silence. Hanzo eyed the clock on the far wall, not even noticing the soft clink of a glass being placed before him until he turned around to see a fresh glass of sake before him. 

He shook his head a little, wrapping a hand around the glass and bringing it to his lips.It wasn’t the same sake as before: this was stronger. Better, even. The bartender resolutely didn’t pick up conversation again and Hanzo left a tip on the counter before finally stepping out onto the cold autumn streets. 

He had work to do. 

 

“Is this going to be your life forever?” Genji’s voice crackled over the phone as the signal struggled with connection. The rain poured outside of the underpass Hanzo was situated in, hands sticky with blood gripped against the mobile. 

“Possibly.” He shrugged despite Genji not being about to see the gesture It was comforting, to behave blasé despite his situation.

“It went south?”

“Yes.”

“You’re injured?”

“No.”

He could hear Genji’s relieved sighs and the voice of someone else. “Hold on,” Genji whispered, the sound distorting as he audibly covered the mic with a hand. Hanzo could hear nonetheless. “It’s Hanzo.” 

A reply of, “Is he alright?” in a smooth but familiar voice. 

Genji’s scared, small answer dropped a pit to the bottom of Hanzo’s stomach. “I  _ don’t know _ .”

He hung up, staring at Genji’s grinning contact picture for a second before huffing and closing the phone with a click, making sure to swipe it to silent before he tucked it into his pocket. 

Instead of carrying him home, his feet carried him to Blackwatch Bar, the very same  from the day before.

He pushed in through the door with a shoulder and headed straight to the restroom at the back of the place, lighting poor enough to give him some privacy as he shoved his hands into the basin and washed the blood from them, the scent of copper soon overtaken by cheap sanitizer.Satisfied, he made a beeline straight for the exit. 

“Not stoppin’ for a drink?” An amused voice caught him unawares, bar to his right empty but for the man polishing a glass in his hands, amused smirk pushing crinkles around brown eyes.    
“I-” Hanzo stopped, unsure.

“If you got somewhere to be then be on your way, ain’t no trouble” The man put down the empty glass so he could better gesture to the door with accentuated grandeur. “But this place is slower than a herd of turtles and I sure as hell won’t turn down company.”

Hanzo glanced around, noticing the bar was nigh empty save he and the barkeep, somewhat similar to the night before. 

“‘Sides, you’re the kinda fella that looks like he could always use a drink.” 

What was  _ that _ supposed to mean? 

The man must have recognised Hanzo’s irritation and laughed good naturedly, reaching for a tap and filling up the same glass from before with a golden cider. “Naw, don’t think of it like that, just know a man after my own heart when I see one, s’all.” 

The tension tearing at Hanzo’s shoulders sagged a little and he stepped forward, sitting at the bar.    
“Sake.”

“Sure thing.” 

“Preferably the same brand as before.”

The bartender grinned at that, eyes flashing with interest as he took Hanzo in with a cocked brow. He poured the sake with quick movements, pushing the drink towards him and taking another long drag of his own, 

“Jesse McCree. Folks ‘round here know me as McCree,” He smiled something wicked, “But you can call me Jesse.” 

Hanzo took a moment to examine the man in front of him. The first thing anyone would notice about Jesse McCree the moment he opened his mouth was the deep southern drawl of an accent. The second was that he held himself with the air of someone that knew more than they let on. 

“Hanzo.” 

“Seen you around here a couple of times, Hanzo. Live nearby?” 

Hanzo wanted to ask if they were playing 21 questions and if so whether or not Jesse had heard of the phrase concerning curiosity and the cat. Instead, he responded with a tighter grip on his glass and a neutral reply of, “Near enough.”

“And the blood on your hands, was that yours?”

Jesse levelled Hanzo with a blank stare, a steady pokerface probably mirroring his own. He said nothing.

After a second Jesse raised his hands in surrender, expression slipping into something friendlier, “Ain’t none of my business, just that the boss would have my hide if I let someone trail trouble in here.” Another moment of silence locked with brown eyes, “But we ain’t gonna have none of that, right?” 

Slightly more at ease, Hanzo took a steady drink of the sake in front of him. “No trouble. You have my word.” 

“Well then, I’m mighty glad. Had me worried you were going to pick up that there glass and kill me with it for a second there.”

Hanzo chuckled grimly. “There are better things to do with a glass of sake.” 

“You’re not wrong.” Jesse hummed in turn, “Don’t have the stomach for it myself, prefer something with a little more bite.”

“Such as cider?” Hanzo couldn’t help the tease that left his lips.

Jesse gestured vaguely, groaning. “Boss swore me off drinking liquor during hours, makin’ out it’s bad for business. Only thing bad for business round here is the  _ lack _ of business.”

Surprised, Hanzo huffed a laugh. “But there you have your answer. No one is here but me. Pour yourself a drink.” His nerves jumped about as he watched McCree incline his head and swap out his cider for aged whiskey. His eyes flicked to the clock mounted on the far wall, gaudy red against black. 

_ 23:45 _

He could only linger for so long before he’d need to leave. 

“So,  _ Hanzo _ ,” McCree rolled his name through his lips like a cigarette between deft fingers, grinning all the while, “Get out often?”

Hanzo almost spat his drink out.

“Excuse me?”   
“Y’know, darlin’, d’ya get out often?”

“I-No, not particularly.” Hanzo, struck for what to say, answered embarrassingly honestly.

Jesse liked that, tipping his head back in a laugh, “S’pose muggers don’t have much of a social life.”

Irked, Hanzo’s brow twitched a little, lip curling in offense, “I am not a mugger.”

Shrugging innocently McCree smiled, “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

Silence for the moment Hanzo took another long drink.   
“Assassin?”

“No.”

“Mortician?” 

A sigh, “No.”

“I got one- You’re a member of a secret team of heroes, set on savin’ the world.” 

“Yes.”

Another laugh, hearty and genuine, “Really?”

“No.”

“Dang.”

They spoke for a while, of simple things, easy conversation that didn’t require Hanzo to respond in more than a sentence here and there. Jesse McCree could talk for high heaven it seemed, words spilling from his lips quicker still once the glass of golden whiskey had drained to dregs. 

“I...have to go.” Hanzo eventually admitted, surprised at his own reluctance. 

Jesse stopped short of presumably another wild story, face falling slightly, “Aw, hell.”

They both looked at the clock on the wall.

A short chuckle and Jesse ran his hand through his hair. “Shit, shoulda closed up twenty minutes ago.” 

Hanzo knew what was coming next.

“Can I walk you home?” 

He sighed, “I’ll get there fine myself but thank you.” He was already getting up, shrugging on the jacket he’d formerly taken off. The alcohol in his system touched his cheeks a faint pink and Jesse’s ears held much the same red underneath tousled brown hair. 

Standing to the side Hanzo, found himself watching Jesse clearing away the glasses, taking off his apron, slinging it to the side and rummaging under the bar. 

His gaze flickered briefly to the door, tempted to wave a quick goodbye and step out, his thought process briefly stopping as McCree placed the gaudiest hat Hanzo had possibly ever seen atop his head, rattling keys in one of his hands and an unlit cigar bit between his teeth. “Y’ready to go?” He grinned around it as Hanzo schooled his expression into something less akin to the face a child might make when faced with something ridiculous. 

With a nod together they stepped out, Jesse turning to lock the doors just as Hanzo’s eyes set upon a figure across the street. 

The streetlamps  illuminated the stranger across the road enough for Hanzo to recognise his silhouette; Genji. The man stayed put, obviously waiting for Hanzo to shake McCree’s presence. 

“Well, my place is a few blocks west of here, sure I can’t walk you back? Or maybe you’d fancy-”

“I am fine, McCree. Thank you.”

Frowning, McCree’s eyes followed Hanzo’s. “Y’sure?” He could hear the knowing undertone even through the casual question as Jesse’s eyes also landed on the man across the road.

“I am.”

A hand on his upper arm tore Hanzo’s eyes away from his brother. McCree shot him a smirk, tipped his hat and strode away. It was a few seconds of watching Jesse saunter away before Genji was at his side, shoving his shoulder angrily.

“ _ Blackwatch Bar? _ ” He hissed in Japanese, “ _ You screw up a job and go to a  _ bar _? _ ” 

Hanzo rolled his eyes and began walking in the direction to his apartment, the moon casting long shadows on the cars parked in the empty street. “How did you know where I was?”

Genji jogged besides him, eyes still downcast and irked, arms crossed stiffly over his chest. He snorted derisively and shot a sneer at Hanzo. “So it’s fine for you to track  _ my  _ phone, but I’m not allowed to track yours?” 

_ Touché, _ Hanzo thought to himself as they reached his door and he unlocked it, stepping inside. 

Genji grabbed his arm before he could get all the way past the threshold.    
“Anija, I...” 

He sounded pained and Hanzo exhaled guiltily, turning to face him, his eyes met Genji’s own filled with regret and hesitancy, “I have a skillset, Genji. I have a means to make money, I have a way to keep them off our back. I understand your worry, I understand that you want to help but please.” He placed a hand atop Genji’s, “Trust that I am capable.” 

Genji’s expression twisted further. “I have never doubted your  _ capabilities _ , Hanzo. I’m worried about  _ you _ .” His finger tapped Hanzo’s chest pointedly before stepping back onto the sidewalk, “You need a friend, and you need to talk to me more. You can’t just hole yourself up in there forever and mope about the injustices of life until your next job.”

_ I can and I will, _ Hanzo didn’t say.

“Thank you for the concern, Genji.” 

Genji responded with a frustrated series of groans even as he paced on the sidewalk, a hand carding through his green hair. “Hanzo, just--don’t do that to me again. Ever again.”

“I’ll--” Hanzo inhaled and exhaled slowly. “I won’t.”

Genji didn’t look convinced, shaking his head. “Goodnight, brother.”

“Goodnight.”

After a second of watching Genji leave, Hanzo shut the door, slinking into his clean apartment, gaps between the blinds spilling in the warm light from the lamps outside. He reached for the phone within his pocket, skimming over his last messages to Genji: 

**Hanzo: Job compromised, may require pick up.**

**Genji: shit can i call u?**

**Hanzo: yes**

Much to his surprise a message popped up as he stared

**Genji:** **forgot to ask, why were you at BB?**

**Hanzo: To wash hands**

**Genji:  it took you 3 and a half hours to do that? xD**

Hanzo didn’t respond, instead choosing to bustle around the kitchen, swiping tea from a cupboard and popping it in a mug. When his phone buzzed again on the side, he glanced at it;

**Genji: mccree is a good man ;)**

Another buzz.

**Genji: i could give you his number ;) ;)**

**Genji: doesn’t look like he’d mind ;) ;) ;)**

A screenshot followed the third text of a conversation shared between Genji and McCree within the past five minutes. 

**J.McCree: Howdy Genji! Ur brother stopped by Blackwatch earlier, forgot to give him my number, don’t suppose you’d mind? Lol**

**Genji: Not at all ;)**

Following the screenshot was a number. Hanzo hovered over it, frowning at the screen even as the water boiled and he poured it into his mug. 

To hell with it.

He saved the number under ‘McCree’ and shot him a quick text. 

**Hanzo: This is Hanzo.**

He stared at the message after sending it, cursing himself further for his complete lack of tact. It took ten minutes of Hanzo pacing before he settled down, scrubbed any lingering blood from himself, changed into sweats and a tank and lay down in bed. The phone vibrating in his hand startled him from the beginnings of sleep, and he brought it closer with weary eyes.

**McCree: Genji gave ya my number then? :P howdy**

He rolled his eyes, denying the grin a place on his face.

**Hanzo: What gave it away? Hello.**

**McCree: if he didn’t give it ya…..:O you’re a hacker like Mr Robot**

**Hanzo: No**

**McCree: dang**

It was twenty minutes before the next text.

**McCree: Should come back to the bar soon, was pretty nice havin you there**

He groaned as he shook his head into his pillow, turning his phone off and rolling onto his side. His thoughts raced a mile a minute as he tried to steady his thinking. 

McCree was an attractive man. Hanzo recognized that, he was only human afterall. 

McCree was also a potential liability. 

As if to nail in the point, he got his final text of the night. 

**Anon: This is the client, G.Rey. Escort @ Base A 1700. Tomorrow. Covert.**

Another job. 

He closed his eyes, the taste of sake at the back of his throat and the low pitched timbre of a southern twang clouding his thoughts. 

  
  


  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Hanzo: If a job killed me would you feed my fish?**

**Genji: WAS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE A JOKE? D: < **

**Hanzo: Yes**

**Hanzo: I don’t own any fish**

**Genji: BRO THAT’S NOT FUNNY??**

He propped up his bow against the towering steel beam of the warehouse supporting rafters, crouching atop the metal. He was high up on the vantage point, cold hands gripping the colder steel. It was an uncomfortable position but one he’d hold with grace for hours if the job so required. 

“ _ Eyes on the entrance _ .” The gruff voice in his ear bit through the comm, as if Hanzo didn’t already know. 

“Understood.” 

The job had been straightforward thus far, act as defence to a moving payload entering the warehouse in which he was stationed. He needn’t do any repositioning and his watchpoint was one he’d been specifically ordered to stick with. A stoic pair of eyes from above. 

Still, he wished he hadn’t worn his piercings. The cold from the open warehouse rattled through him and half-froze any metal it came into contact with, including that on which he was perched as well as the rings and studs on his ears and nose. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket but he chose instead to reach into his quiver and pull an arrow from it, running a finger along the carbon fiber shaft. 

Picking up his bow, he notched the arrow and pulled back smoothly, testing his strength against the pull of the string before letting it down again.

“ _ Hostile sighted at dock 33A, move in ground unit 2.”  _ Hanzo’s comm line chattered. The distant sputtering of gunfire started and ceased in the space of several seconds. 

“Strange choice of weapon,” The client had said. Hanzo hadn’t seen his face, hidden behind a black balaclava. 

“It does the job,” he’d responded smoothly, familiar with the remark. 

“It’d better.” 

Something in the tone of his voice had set Hanzo instantly on edge. It wasn’t a  _ mocking _ tone per se, but it had a snide, clipped amusement to it that only had Hanzo wondering  _ how _ the client had gotten his details in the first place. Presumably set up via a former, satisfied contact. He wasn’t one to deny money where it was offered.

It was that same voice in his ear that now had him readying his hands against the recurve’s grip, “ _ Sniper B, hostile incoming. _ ” 

He pulled the string taut as the slapping of footsteps echoed throughout the warehouse, a man clad in black and clutching a pistol rounding into the huge building unaware of the danger above. 

Hanzo took a breath and let the arrow fly. He watched in satisfaction as the missile hit its mark square in the target’s chest, sending him toppling backwards against the impact. Quickly readying another arrow Hanzo trained it on the prone body, ensuring it wouldn’t be getting up and grabbing for the tossed pistol.

“Dispatched,” he breathed into his com, receiving nothing in reply. 

It was going to be a long night. 

 

His prediction proved true. The job was an eventual success, but not before Hanzo was almost shot from his perch by an influx of hostile activity and not nearly enough suppression fire to support him. It’d taken the appearance of the client himself and an impressive pair of shotguns on the ground before Hanzo was able to extract himself from his spot of cover behind a upright girder. 

He was exhausted, his arms ached and his wrist muscle was certainly pulled. 

“Payload secure, here’s your cash. Have it on good authority that the boss thinks you did a good job and will pass word along.” A woman handed him a thick envelope and Hanzo took it, pocketing it within the inner lining of his dark canvas jacket with an appreciative nod. 

With that he was leaving, bow in its case and footsteps echoing through the dark alleys of the city night.

The low lighting masked his weary gait. He took his time walking, using his spare hand to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. The last text received was from three hours ago.

**McCree: up to anythin tonight?**

Hanzo quirked a brow at it, tapping against his screen and wincing at his wrist’s painful throbbing. 

**Hanzo: Sleeping.**

The response was near enough instantaneous, despite the late hour.

**McCree: you can sleep-text? Thats a mighty fine ability lol**

Hanzo surprised himself with a low chuckle, frowning as he shook it from his system and sighed something genuine. 

**Hanzo: I need a drink**

**McCree: i’m not at work darlin :(**

**Hanzo: I meant of coffee. Preferably black =_=**

As a side note he shot a text to Genji confirming that he was safe and, more importantly, paid. He was weary physically, yes, but moreso mentally. A job was a job but he wasn’t afraid to admit to himself that the work was unfulfilling and dubious. Hanzo’s place wasn’t to ask questions and yet he couldn’t stifle the feeling he’d left one life behind only to become ensnared in one equally as damning. Each new client brought a different plate of trouble with them, unidentified payloads of god only knows what, Hanzo training his arrows on the forms of any that dare argue. There were no  _ good _ or  _ bad _ guys, only the job and the money. 

A voice in the back of his head argued that probably made him the bad guy. 

His phone buzzed.

**McCree: cant sleep, wanna get that coffee together?**

Hanzo sighed, recalling the tightness in his chest loosened gently by Jesse’s easy conversation the prior night. 

He gave in to temptation.

**Hanzo: Have somewhere in mind?**

 

McCree told him to meet him outside of Blackwatch Bar and Hanzo called a cab to get him back to his apartment, dropping off his bow and money. The mirror in his hallway stopped him short, hair falling out of place and bruised purple under his eyes betrayed his exhaustion and he scrabbled quickly with a comb to harry his hair into something less haphazard. 

His phone lit up and he tapped the screen, leaning a hip against the doorway

**Genji: glad ur okay**

**Hanzo: I’m meeting mccree for coffee**

He stared at his sent message. Why had he blurted that to Genji? He was about to leave when he received the reply. 

**Genji: at 1 am??? lololol Is ‘coffee’ the new ‘netflix and chill’? Wtf hanzo x’D**

**Hanzo:** **shut up**

**Genji: You shut up xD xD**

Unable to help himself, he smiled at the text, putting his phone down to lock up and make his way to Blackwatch. There were people milling around in the street, mostly drunk or getting home from a night out. Blackwatch itself had far more people there than usual. Though on weekdays the bar was moderately empty, it seemed the weekends drew in more people. 

Hanzo quickly pinpointed McCree, leaning languidly against the brick wall aside Blackwatch’s entrance, clad in dark jeans and a thick, red serape. Hanzo could swear his boots had honest to god spurs, though he was minus a stetson. He lifted his chin as Hanzo approached.

“Howdy--Hell, y’alright?” 

Hanzo obviously hadn’t done as good a job making himself look a little less like he was ready for an early grave as he thought he had.

He grumbled in response, casting his gaze downward. Jesse pressed a hand to his shoulder in a gesture he’d usually shake off but instead allowed it to sit there. 

“C’mon, I got an idea.”

Jesse used the hand on his shoulder to turn Hanzo around and direct him towards-

“No.” 

McCree snorted loudly, skipping forwards and grabbing up a helmet from the seat of the gaudy red Vespa parked on the curb. 

“Aw hun, sweetheart, please.” He held out a hand, winking. 

Hanzo was sure that if anyone could hear his thoughts at that moment they’d simply be inundated with a confused series of yelling and screams. 

“ _ No. _ ” 

Jesse swung a leg over the seat, popping his own open-face helmet on with a grin. He patted the seat behind him and gestured to the second helmet tied there. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he spoke through the smile with a quiet conviction Hanzo found himself unable to argue with, mumbling under his breath as he snatched up the helmet and shoved it on. He sat on the back of the bike and furrowed his brow as his eyes met Jesse’s in the wing mirror at his hand. Jesse just laughed, reaching back suddenly to clasp his hands against Hanzo’s and bring the man’s arms forward around his waist. 

“Hold on tight, darlin’.”

Hanzo felt his cheeks heat up but said nothing, allowing his hands to rest around McCree’s middle, comfortably warmed under the folds of the red serape. 

He gripped tighter yet when he realised that Jesse drove like a man possessed. 

The vespa whipped past parked cars and swung around turns like Jesse was fully prepared to drive it into a ditch and damn the consequences. Hanzo could only keep his arms locked around McCree and watch the city cascade by him. Occasionally after too sharp a turn or a jolt in the road Hanzo clenched his muscles and could feel the low rumble of Jesse’s laughter as the man acknowledged his struggling. It took several minutes of speeding through town before they left the buildings behind in favour of twisting up uphill lanes and finally out onto the flat plateau of hills surrounding the city. 

McCree pulled the bike onto the side of the empty road. From where they were, Hanzo could see that the shoulder lead to a rail that overlooked the majority of the city. Twisting the key in the engine and letting it die, Jesse wasted no time in hopping up and pulling his helmet off, scrubbing his hands through his flattened hair. 

The road was quiet and they were far enough out of town to hear the chirping of insects and see the stars despite the orange hue hanging low over the buildings ahead of them. 

Hanzo stepped off the bike, pulling his own helmet off and feeling with his hand the unruly mess of his hair, tumbling away from the neat bun it’d formerly been tied in. He placed the helmet on the seat and pulled the tie from his hair, letting black locks spill onto his shoulders so he could better tug his fingers through it. He barely noticed Jesse’s staring. 

They made eye contact, the man’s brown eyes flicking away and a grin pulling at his mouth.

“What?” Hanzo frowned but Jesse shrugged and chuckled.

“Nothin’.” 

Shaking his head, he gathered his hair back up and tied it neatly. Jesse had pulled something from the bag tied to the side of the vespa. With the large black flask and two tin mugs in hand, he strode over to the railing, pulled himself up and perched atop it, flicking his gaze out to the city lights and tapping the spot next to him with a foot. Hanzo could only once again follow his movements, hugging his jacket tighter about himself against the chill of the late night. 

Once atop the railing Jesse wasted no time crowding his personal space and pushing a mug into his hand. 

“That from the other day?” He mumbled and Hanzo tilted his head, about to ask what he meant before Jesse interrupted him by lightly tapping his bruised wrist. It was barely noticeable under his sleeve but mottled purple nonetheless.  

Hanzo clutched the mug and shrugged lightly, letting silence settle as Jesse uncapped the flask and steam rose from it. 

“Black, like ya said.” 

“Thank you.” 

They sat for a moment, simply basking in the presence of another human (and in Hanzo’s case, revering the hit of caffeine). Jesse pulled a flask from his pocket, pouring what smelled like whiskey into his own mug. Hanzo leaned forward and took it from him. 

“You’re driving us back, fool.” 

Jesse just laughed, “Aw, give a fella a break.” He didn’t argue further though, instead sipping the drink and smiling restfully. 

“You don’t work weekends?” Hanzo prodded.

“Boss don’t trust me with more than seven or so people in the bar at a time.” Jesse winked and Hanzo found himself doubtful. 

“You seem perfectly competent to me.”

“Shucks,” he laughed, “high praise from a cat burglar.” 

“I am not a burglar.” 

“Are you going to tell me what you  _ do _ do?” 

Hanzo pursed his lips and buried his expression in the rim of his mug as he took a large swig of the bitter coffee.

“S’alright, darlin’. I won’t pester you ‘bout it no more.” 

“Doubtful.” 

That coaxed another laugh from Jesse. The man seemed full of them, easy laughter and easier smiles. Like they were second nature to him. The faint crows feet around his eyes another testament to this fact.

“You ain’t much like your brother.” McCree smiled, voice still tinged with amusement. It was a statement he’d heard a lot before. Although growing up, it was spoken as praise. Since then the term had a tendency to put Hanzo on edge.

“No.” He granted, frowning out at the city lights, “I hold little fondness for the colour green.” 

A chuckle, “I’ve known him for a few years--heck, by extension I’ve known  _ you _ for a hell of a while now. How come we never met up like this before?” 

Hanzo mused on that, a smirk pulling at his lips, “I must have had a recent lapse in judgement.” 

Jesse shoved his shoulder good naturedly, surprised snickering falling from his lips, “Don’t sass me.”

Silence fell and Jesse stretched a little on the railing, pulling his serape from around his neck and letting it instead sit across both their laps. Hanzo wasn’t about to argue the added warmth. 

“ _ So _ .” Jesse smiled a little, “Guessin’ you ain’t got no one waiting back home.”

“I am that transparent?”

“Folks with people worryin’ ‘bout them don’t go on late night rendezvous with handsome strangers.”

“Foolhardy  _ and _ arrogant.”

“Darlin’, it’s all part of my charm.” 

Hanzo huffed and shook his head, “To answer your question, no. I do not have anyone waiting ‘back home’.” 

“But you got a Soulmark?” 

Balking, Hanzo shot a glare at Jesse. Soulmarks  _ were _ spoken of, but more often than not only with close friends and relatives. Growing up in the family he did, personal secrets were treasured things and the soulmark was one of the most personal things one could hold. Jesse seemed completely unphased by Hanzo’s ruffling and eventually, he deflated.

“Yes.” 

They both looked out to the city again.

“I don’t.” 

Hanzo stared instead at Jesse. He was taken aback. It wasn’t unheard of for soulmarks to never develop, but it was never a good omen. 

“I--” 

“Nah, stop that.” Jesse interrupted him with a laugh that rang hollow, “I brought it up. Was just curious s’all.” 

Sympathetically he fell quiet. “I understand.” 

Together they made their way through the remainder of the coffee, talking much as they had the previous night. Hanzo found himself more relaxed than he had been in months. Perhaps Genji had been right and he  _ did _ need to do this more often. If not for McCree he would have been sat in his apartment, blinds shut and dead to the outside world. He could almost feel the anxiety gnawing at his belly at the thought of it. 

Jesse had an easy to get along with quality that dulled Hanzo’s edge to something less snide, less sharp. 

They rode back together, Jesse not having to prompt Hanzo to wrap his arms around his waist this time as they sailed through the streets and back to Blackwatch Bar. McCree tried bartering Hanzo into letting him just ride him back to his apartment but Hanzo remained resolute that he was close enough to the bar to simply walk from there. 

“Well,” Jesse took the helmet from Hanzo and tied it to the seat once Hanzo extracted himself from it, “This is your stop.” 

He stood there, fidgeting a little on the sidewalk as he prepared himself for sincerity. “Thank you,” he spoke, levelling Jesse with an earnest gaze. “I-- It was a good night. You surprised me.” 

“Oh?” Jesse grinned wickedly, raising his brows and tilting up his head. “What do I get in return?”    
Hanzo frowned in confusion, his eyebrows shooting up when Jesse tapped his cheek with a finger pointedly. 

Swallowing a growing blush and schooling his expression into something a little less appalled he stepped closer with a frown, following Jesse’s gesture and tapping the man’s cheek teasingly. 

Jesse laughed and stood up.

Before Hanzo could really comprehend what was happening, Jesse’s lips were against his and his arms around his waist. Too stunned at first to reciprocate, he stood there until Jesse began to pull away, an apology at the ready. Hanzo pulled him back in by the scruff of his neck, pushing their lips back together and molding himself to the man. 

They stood together, kissing heatedly against the backdrop that was Blackwatch Bar and the steadily lightening sky.

Hanzo pulled away first, setting eyes on a ruffled Jesse, cheeks darkened and lips pink. He smiled lazily. “Wasn’t half bad for a thank you--” 

Hanzo interrupted him again by finishing with a quick, simple peck. Just a push of their lips that left Jesse stuttering, any tact flown from the window. Hanzo liked holding the higher ground. 

“Good night, Jesse.” With a quick brush of his hand against McCree’s cheek he turned on his heel and started walking, heart racing in his chest. 

“G’night Hanzo!” Jesse shouted behind him. He could hear the smile in his voice and it was infectious enough to grant Hanzo one of his own.

It didn’t take him long to get back to his apartment and slip in through the front.    

He closed the door behind him and slid down against the wall, heart still pumping blood loudly through his ears. 

He noticed his phone on the counter next to the mirror in the hall and realised with some chagrin that he must have forgotten to take it with him. 

He grabbed it and unlocked it.

2 Messages.

The first from Genji: 

**Genji: good luck on catching tail. mccree will 100% tell me everything tomorrow rip hanzo**

He shook his head and checked the second. 

**SOMBRA: Trouble on it’s way, H. Need money ASAP.**

Three missed calls. 

All from SOMBRA.

His heart, still racing, dropped like a dead weight to his stomach. He texted hurriedly, aware of the obscene time of night.

**H.S: Money here. Pick up when?**

Reply was instantaneous.

**SOMBRA: If you want to keep them from picking up your trail you do not leave me hanging when it comes to money.**

**H.S: My apologies.**

**SOMBRA: You owe me extra next time for this. Averted several camera sightings. Your brother is not lowkey.**

**H.S: He is not. I apologise.**

**SOMBRA: Quit apologising I’m not going to throw you under the bus, H. Just keep payments steady. This work isn’t cheap.**

**H.S: I am well aware.**

**SOMBRA: You have a group of hostiles incoming. I have eyes on their meeting place. They’ll be in town in 3 days.**

Hanzo’s panic settled into a grim determination. He glanced at himself in the mirror, bedraggled and still flushed. He glanced at the bow case and his spare quiver next to it. 

He tapped his fingers against his phone screen and grit his teeth.

**H.S: Give me a location.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again huge thank you to [ Tsol ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorQui/pseuds/DoctorQui) for being a great Beta.  
> I've bumped up chapter count because this fic is prolly gonna end up some sorta monster.  
> Also here is my [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/SteelCourage) feel free to come shout at me.


	3. Chapter 3

Two days drifted by agonisingly slowly. All the while it felt like the quiet minutes before a real battle. 

Excruciating tension stretched the full 48 hours. By the full second day, Hanzo hadn’t slept for shit and any food he’d eaten had threatened to show back up. 

One text kept spinning circles in his head.

**SOMBRA:** **You will be vastly outnumbered, H. Can’t get a tell on how many exactly but just do yourself a favour and bring backup.**

The problem was he didn’t  _ have _ any backup. 

He knew Genji would--

But he couldn’t ask. 

He  _ couldn’t _ . 

Hanzo didn’t doubt his own proficiency on the field but he knew that if you set a hawk on a group of dogs it was going to end poorly. Perhaps it made him a fool that the true issue wasn’t with how he was going to find backup; it was what would happen if the mission  _ did _ truly kill him. 

“Hanzo?”

He knew that dying in such a way would not redeem him of his misgivings or sins. It would only break Genji. Some small part of him whispered that the fact he could acknowledge that alone meant he had grown as a person. Another part told him to nosedive the mission regardless. 

“ _ Hanzo?” _

He snapped his head up.

Zenyatta smiled down at him, “Penny for your thoughts, friend.” 

He laughed inwardly. 

“I am debating the merits of buying fish.” 

“Hmm.” Zenyatta lifted an eyebrow and sat beside him, settling himself cross-legged on the dark couch. 

Hanzo could never help but feel awkward around him. Though Zenyatta assured Hanzo repeatedly that there was never any ill-harboured thoughts, the man had a way of causing Hanzo’s guilt to weigh heavier than usual in his gut.

“I do not think that’s entirely honest, Hanzo.” 

Hanzo had to physically bite back a snide response in favour for a polite, “Mmhm.” 

He had no wish for the conversation to continue.  

It seemed Zenyatta knew this and continued regardless, “If there is something on your mind you’d do well to talk to Genji about it. He cares about you.” Zenyatta didn’t offer his own shoulder to cry on, Although Hanzo was willing to bet it was through no means a lack of sympathy. More the fact the man knew Hanzo well enough now to understand the offer would fall on deaf ears. 

He took a second to look at the soulmark on Zenyatta’s palm as the man upturned them. 

‘ _ The photos didn’t give you credit. Damn.’ _

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. Zenyatta caught on and smiled with him. “For a long time, as many of us did, I poured over it. The bold lines...the,” He interjected with a laugh, “complete lack of subtlety.” 

_ That’s Genji, _ Hanzo thought to himself. 

Zenyatta’s face softened as he turned on Hanzo, his brown eyes filling with a genuine concern Hanzo didn’t know how to deal with. 

“Whatever trouble you’re still in, Hanzo, whatever new demons you’re facing in your bid to rid yourself of your past--you do not need to face them alone. Genji and I are here, we are with you.” 

Hanzo’s chest ached. 

Conversation over. 

He got up and paced into the kitchen without a second glance at Zenyatta’s presumably disappointed face. 

“Pancakes?” The look in Genji’s eyes suggested he’d heard the entire thing. Hanzo appreciated his reticence. 

Genji’s apartment with Zenyatta was cozy, tucked away in a block filled with decent people and an atmosphere that Hanzo couldn’t help but describe as inherently  _ nice. _ Hanzo’s own place was on the bottom floor of two others and his neighbours had what may possibly be 18 cats running around constantly upstairs. That or they themselves enjoyed running laps around their living room all night every night. 

“I believe you still live there because if you had nothing to complain about you may implode.” Genji had said once. In truth he wasn’t half wrong. 

They’d been travelling for a long time. Genji and Zenyatta on their own terms and Hanzo on another. It’d taken five years of coaxing to bring them all together and Hanzo’s apartment was--

It was his first real apartment. He didn’t care if the neighbours owned 18  _ elephants _ . The house was his and he wouldn’t let it go. 

But Genji was right. He enjoyed grouching occasionally and also it made for a fantastic excuse. 

“Have you slept recently, brother?” Genji asked after botching a pancake that ended up on the floor. Zenyatta quickly intervened. 

“Neighbours.” Hanzo lied easily, again becoming quickly aware of his oncoming predicament all over again. His stomach made no pause in resuming to tie itself in knots. 

He stepped back in order to lean against the kitchen bar and pull out his phone. He pretended not to watch as Genji paced into Zenyatta’s back and locked his arms around the man’s middle. Averted his gaze politely as Zenyatta put the pan down for a second to chastise Genji for distracting him through barely disguised laughter. They kissed briefly and Hanzo excused himself entirely. 

He pulled out his phone, scrolling to the shared conversations between McCree and himself. 

**Hanzo: are you working?**

**McCree: sure am, honeybunch**

**Hanzo: nevermind.**

**McCree: what??  :O**

The next handful of texts poured through in quick succession. 

**McCree: did u wanna come see me?**

**McCree: is this cause i called ya honeybunch?**

**McCree: i aint sorry**

**McCree: aw pls babe**

Hanzo smirked and replied.

**Hanzo: No more nicknames.**

A pause.

**McCree: sure thing, honeybunch ;)**

“Holy  _ shit _ ,” He heard from in front of him. Glancing up, he made eye contact with Genji, eyes alight with glee. “Holy shit, Zen… _. _ Zen are you  _ seeing  _ this?” 

Zenyatta muttered something from the kitchen and Hanzo frowned as Genji jumped forward and shook his shoulders, “Aw bro, c’mon! That smile was  _ adorable _ . That was so  _ cute _ . What the heck?” He made a grab for the phone and Hanzo planted his palm on Genji’s forehead, shoving him bodily away. “Who are you  _ talking to _ \--” a melodramatic gasp, “Is it  _ McCree? _ ” He continued struggling to grab for the phone even despite Hanzo’s hand on his head holding him at arm’s length. 

They batted at each other and grappled their hands for a few moments as if they weren’t both trained killers. Even despite Hanzo’s nettling, the unworried laughter of his brother had him soon forgiving him for his prodding. 

They ate pancakes soon after, Zen having saved the atrocity that was Genji’s attempt at cooking. In reality neither of them could really cook but Zenyatta had at least  _ slightly _ more experience in not setting things alight at every turn of an oven knob. 

With a final farewell and Genji’s insistence that Hanzo check back in soon he left.

**Hanzo: i’m on my way**

**McCree: I’ll have a drink waiting for you, darlin**

The sky outside was tinted pink with the setting sun and the streets a bustle of rush hour activity. Hanzo knew keeping busy was the best way to prepare for the coming mission. Meditation and tea could still his nerves for a short time, but sleep had a tendency to elude him under duress. He’d worried Genji, he knew he had. Turning up at his brother's door a few hours ago looking dishevelled and stressed wasn’t a habit of his and Genji knew it took more than a couple of knocks to push Hanzo to admit he needed help. Although not in as many words. As Hanzo had demonstrated, he could ask for help in the form of a harsh rap at the door and an awkward offer of dinner. Genji had dragged him in near enough kicking and screaming suggesting instead they cook breakfast for lunch and watch re-runs of a sitcom Genji had honest to god  _ posters _ for in his shared room with Zen. 

He wrapped the scarf around his neck tighter yet as he made the walk to Blackwatch Bar, the steady thrum of life in the city the music to his journey. That and his phone, only recently stashed back in his pocket, suddenly vibrating in attention to an incoming phone call. 

Hanzo assumed it was Jesse, calling on a cigar break before Hanzo arrived. 

He was wrong. 

“Hello?” 

“Targets incoming, two sooner than I thought. H, they’re on your location--” He heard a steady stream of urgent spanish talking held away from the mic, “You have two trailing your six, I have eyes on you.”

It took a second for his brain to catch up to the frantic words, “Slow down. Explain.”

“ _ Two on your six _ .” The voice repeated, interrupting him as he made to turn around and check whomever was behind him. “ _ No seas menso--  _ keep  _ walking _ , H. If they think you’re on to them you’ll have far more trouble. Lead them  _ away _ . This is on me, I got fed false info.”

“Shimada?”    
“No. But I’m willing to bet they’re paid by them. Wires are buzzing about the bounty they’ve got on you.” 

“Let them come.” 

“The alley on your coming left will lead you somewhere secure. Are you armed?” 

Hanzo grit his teeth, “No.” A fool’s error on his behalf. 

“ _ Mierda _ .” A pause before the woman on the other end took a breath, “Then I sure as hell hope you’re as good as they say you are, H.” The line went dead and Hanzo steadied his breathing. 

The next left came quicker than he anticipated and he resolutely didn’t glance behind him despite his instincts screaming at him to survey the threat. He imagined he could hear footsteps gaining on him through the cacophony of evening traffic and the perturbed chatter of civilians around him. As if he could make out the enemy footfalls through the crowd of them. 

He swung left, breaking his pace into a light jog. He’d need a second just to duck behind cover. If he could spring them then they wouldn’t have a chance to shoot him. 

The alley was dank and quiet, dimmed by the long shadows of the setting sun. He sidestepped around a corner and hurriedly pressed his back to the damp brick there. He waited, hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he poised himself for attack. 

Two pairs of footsteps soon punctuated the heavy silence. 

“ _ Did you see where he went _ ?” A voice spoke in Japanese.

A second swore, “ _ Damn it. _ ” 

“ _ Intel said he was en route to a bar. We can cut him off there.” _

The footsteps had stopped just before his corner, they weren’t close enough. 

They were pacing back. 

Headed to the bar? 

He could imagine Jesse’s voice in his head asking  _ questions _ . Questions these men would be curious about, Jesse’s smart mouth, his quick senses. 

Jesse’s body behind the bar. 

Hanzo panicked.

He rounded from his cover and ducked low into a tackle, grabbing the first man around the waist and pushing his weight into the frame. Both he and the first hostile hit the ground. The sudden air of confusion gave him just a hair’s breadth second to bring his fist up and snap it into the throat of the downed attacker. He hesitated little, years of using the bow having kept the muscles in his shoulders and arms powerful and dangerous in hand-to-hand. He’d use that against them. 

The second man was wasting time pulling a gun from the hidden holster within his jacket. Hanzo took the opportunity to jump from his crouch and hook his leg behind his and yank swiftly. The man didn’t quite topple, but was distracted enough by trying to catch himself that Hanzo was given the opportunity to bury his elbow into his sternum. He heard the breath leave the man’s lungs as he doubled over. He then thrusted himself upwards and slammed his elbow down into the point between the attacker’s shoulder blades, able only to hear pained gurgling through breathless lungs as the man collapsed down. 

Hanzo didn’t even register the sound of the silenced gunshot until his body began  _ screaming _ at him in only the way adrenaline-muted pain did. 

The man on the floor, his first attacker, was holding a pistol, the long head of the silencer trained on him shakily. He could feel the warm stream of blood dribbling rivers down his arm. He couldn’t look. 

Instead he continued glaring at his shooter, the man’s partner still convulsing in pain on the floor. 

“Hands up.” The man spoke in stilted english. 

His hands remained steady at his side. 

The pistol stopped shaking in the man’s hand and Hanzo read the tell for what it was, diving to the floor just as the ‘ _ Thwip _ ’ of the shot buried itself into the brick wall where he’d just stood. 

He didn’t have much time to react after that. He’d landed solidly next to the formerly incapacitated attacker whom was just beginning to regain his senses. 

_ Stay down _ . Hanzo wanted to growl at him but instead used him as a shield from his comrade’s potential fire. He unwrapped his scarf from around his neck and shimmied up, balling it in his hands and tossing it at the armed attacker. A split second distraction to allow Hanzo to move forward without complete risk of being shot immediately.

Following through he dove, making a grab for the gun. In the fray of struggling and grasping, he felt his face connect sharply with the concrete as the man got a hand in his hair and made an attempt at pinning him. 

Hanzo struggled fiercely, even against the stars flashing behind his eyes. His palms scraped against the pavement and he winced against the onslaught of pain. He could feel the attacker behind him, too close. It was to be the man’s downfall. He jerked his head back and felt it connect with the man’s nose. The gun clattered away. He had a split second to reach for it.

His fingers connected with the handle and all the fear in his body seeped away. The man above him realised a moment too late what had happened as Hanzo flipped around. 

“ _ No _ \--” 

A shot. 

He shoved the body from him, swaying to his feet.

A second shot.

Two bodies at his feet.

He dropped the gun, exchanging it for his phone in shaking fingers.

He quickly swapped hands when he realised his left was too injured. 

He raised it to his ear.

“Good. You’re alive.” Sombra spoke. Hanzo grunted in response. “I’ll send in a crew to clean up. On me.”

“What else do they _know_ , Sombra?” Hanzo hissed. Words were spinning in his head and his body shook with adrenaline. “Do they know where Genji lives? They knew where I was _going._ ” He growled into the phone. 

“My intel was bad, there are moles in the system. I’m doing what I can, H. But from what I can see, no. They don’t know where G lives. Just--”

“Just  _ what _ ?”

“The bar you and your brother frequent; Blackwatch Bar. Something doesn’t add up. There is a lot of buzz around that place, and I do not believe in coincidences.” 

If his spare hand wasn’t covered in blood he’d consider running it down his face in exasperation. 

He started walking, scooping up his scarf on his way and wrapping it around his arm. 

“I’m going to do some more digging, H. I don’t like making mistakes. This one almost got a decent client killed. I’ll be in touch.” She hung up and Hanzo was left hoping desperately that  _ he _ was the decent client and her ‘mistake’ hadn’t almost killed multiple people. 

Something about the fact of them knowing about the bar set Hanzo on edge. It had him concerned, even despite his own condition. 

His feet led him through the streets and past people shooting him quizzical looks. He kept his head ducked until he reached the bar itself, and pushed in. 

There was a reason he didn’t get involved with people. It just took a near-death experience to remind him  _ why _ .

“Hanzo?” He heard Jesse somewhere in his head but couldn’t comprehend anything past the steady drip of blood from his fingers. 

So much for not trailing trouble into the bar. 

He didn’t so much as see rather than felt Jesse brush past him, heard him closing the door. Heard him flip the sign from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed.’ 

His knees felt like they were going to give out when the adrenaline started finally seeping from his body. 

He was  _ tired _ . 

Jesse was there to catch him, swing his good arm around his shoulders and lead him to a booth away from the bar. 

He looked up.

Jesse was talking but Hanzo wasn’t listening. 

‘ _ You’re in danger because of me.’  _ He wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure if it was true yet. ‘ _ You might be in danger because of me.’ _

Jesse’s eyes met his and the worry cast hot irons into his soul.  

Wondering how he could ease it, he leaned forward and captured Jesse’s lips against his. 

‘ _ I don’t know why I’m so drawn to you, _ ’ he wanted to say. ‘ _ Why am I here?’ _ he wanted to plead. 

He let the kiss speak for him, pulling a hand softly through Jesse’s hair as the man lifted a palm and pressed it to the grazes on his face, the stinging eased by the sweetness of Jesse’s mouth against his. 

Jesse lowered his hands and gripped underneath Hanzo’s thighs, lifting him up against him. Hanzo allowed himself to be carried, distracted by the tongue brushing his lips. 

He was placed atop the bar before Jesse pulled away; hands still gripping Hanzo’s sides. He pushed their foreheads together.

“Are you gonna let me help you?” 

Something about the phrase caught the breath in Hanzo’s throat and had him relenting. He wordlessly pushed off his jacket, revealing the deep cut in his upper arm where the bullet had whipped by him. Admittedly it was better than Hanzo had expected. Jesse touched light fingers across the side of his face. 

Hanzo hadn’t seen himself but he would wager it wasn’t pretty. 

“S’your blood this time.” Jesse mumbled and Hanzo’s chest hurt. 

“Yes.”

“But did ya manage to get the painting?”

His brow furrowed and in his confusion the pain near enough went away, “Sorry?”

“With you being an art thief and all, just wondered if you got the paintin’--” Jesse interrupted himself with a grunt as Hanzo sharply kicked his leg. He wanted to chastise McCree about picking a time and a place for jokes, but the half-smile on his face would give him away. 

“I--” Hanzo sighed, “I was jumped.” 

Jesse leaned back and raised a brow, “You were mugged?” He responded flatly, the doubt evident in his tone.    
“Not...mugged. Jumped.” 

Jesse stared blankly for a moment before throwing his arms in the air with an amused sigh. “Well alright, darlin’. It’s more than I usually get from you.” He squeezed Hanzo’s thigh before pacing off, “Now wait just right there.” 

Hanzo’s arm was throbbing terribly by the time Jesse returned with a surprisingly well-stocked med kit. He pulled a surgical needle and thread from within, paired with a bottle of what Hanzo would assume was some sort of antiseptic. 

Jesse met his eyes again. 

“I’d offer you a drink but I so hear that’s bad practice for a doctor.” 

“Painkillers,” Hanzo huffed, eyeing the needle between Jesse’s fingers suspiciously. McCree caught on and held it up with a raised brow and no trace of a smile. 

“D’ya trust me?” 

Hanzo wanted to say ‘ _ Why would I?’  _ He wanted to scream ‘ _ We barely know each other. _ ’

“Yes,” he said instead, shocked that the statement rang completely true. 

Jesse grinned and pressed his lips to Hanzo’s cheek. He turned into the bag and pulled out a bottle of painkillers, tossing them to Hanzo. 

Jesse sewed up the gash in his arm with only minor grumbling on Hanzo’s behalf. The man was surprisingly gentle. Certainly gentler than Hanzo would have been on himself. 

A couple of seconds after snipping the surgical thread and placing a patch softly over it a phone started buzzing from within Jesse’s pocket, some gaudy tune that Hanzo distinctly remembered from an outdated western Genji once made him watch. 

“Hold on just a second, darlin’.” He murmured, putting the equipment down and trading it for his phone. 

Hanzo almost laughed at how outdated the device was. The damn thing  _ flipped _ open under Jesse’s thumb and he pressed it to his ear. 

“Howdy-- Ah shit, Gabe--” He turned to Hanzo looking moderately chagrined and mouthed ‘ _ The boss. _ ’ 

Hanzo could only stifle a chuckle as he looked to the shut door and the closed sign. Between amusement he also felt moderate guilt. If Jesse was about to be chewed out by his manager, then Hanzo only had himself to blame. 

Hanzo couldn’t pick up on what was being said but frowned when Jesse slipped into Spanish, a sidelong glance shot his way. Hanzo tuned out entirely. 

He turned to the mirror behind the bar, for the first time really inspecting himself. 

His face was mottled purple on one side where his head had connected with the stone. The purple was interrupted only by harsh pinks and reds of scrapes along his brow and cheekbone. 

Genji was going to have a fit. 

The sound of the phone flipping shut goaded his attention away from his own reflection.

“Boss caught wind that the bar was shut.” Jesse laughed a little. “He wasn’t too happy.” 

“I’m sorry--” 

“No.” Jesse caught Hanzo’s chin between thumb and forefinger. “Don’t be. Ain’t like anyone was here anyway.”

There it was again, that glint in Jesse’s eye that warned of sharper things than the soft exterior, “I got a sofa at mine you can take.” 

Hanzo frowned but Jesse caught him in a kiss before he could object. Similar to the technique Hanzo had used on him a few days prior. 

“I ain’t lettin’ you go home by yourself after this. So it’s either I follow you to your door and let my boss know I’m skipping out, or you wait for me right here, let me finish my shift and come back with me.” 

“I--” Hanzo knew he could object if he wanted to. 

He didn’t want to.    
“Fine.”

Jesse’s smile almost made gunshot wound worth it. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always [Tsol](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorQui/pseuds/DoctorQui) is a good beta.  
> Also shout out to [Lechuga](http://archiveofourown.org/users/acrxphxbia/pseuds/acrxphxbia) for help with the spanish in there.  
> Here is my [Twitter](http://twitter.com/steelCourage) if y'all need me ;)  
> Next chapter is the last!...Unless it isn't. <3  
> [Spoiler](http://alexanderlozada.com/iasip/?IkhhbnpvIEdldHMgU2hvdCI=)


	4. Chapter 4

Once the haze of adrenaline broke completely Hanzo was left slumped on a bar stool, awaiting Jesse’s shift to finish. His body ached, his head ached. 

“Quit your bellyaching.” He heard McCree smile. 

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t need to.” He felt a glass get pushed into his hand, oddly reminiscent of their night with coffee. He glanced up from the bar. 

It was just water but he sipped at it gratefully. 

He knew he’d have to repeat this, knew this was the beginning of a storm and the horizon was sparking threateningly. 

Next time he’d be ready. He’d be armed and he wouldn’t be the one getting jumped. 

He’d spent almost the entirety of the day in moderate panic and after the explosion of a fight he no longer had the energy to care for much. He didn’t even spare a glance at the people passing lazily in and out of the bar. He knew Jesse’s keen eye was watching over him, and though he knew it shouldn’t put him at ease he felt it anyway. 

A soft hand brushed his and he read it as a prompt to continue drinking water. So he did. 

He lay his head back down on his arm and closed his eyes against the swirling menagerie of problems.

He didn’t even notice the tugging of unconsciousness until he finally succumbed to it.

 

“Han, hey, sugar..”

He opened his eyes, frowning against sleep. 

“Wha--” 

“You hit the hay pretty hard.” Jesse grinned. He was wearing that damn cowboy hat again and his apron was taken off. 

Hanzo sat up, head spinning. 

Jesse had already done the rounds, cleaning up and shutting off lights. 

Hanzo couldn't believe he’d  _ slept _ . That he’d felt safe enough to sleep. Hell, sometimes he didn’t feel safe enough in his own damn house. 

He knew Jesse wouldn’t understand the magnitude of that simple, human act. But Hanzo understood and for the first time since meeting Jesse he wondered at the soulmark carved into his skin.

Rubbing a hand across his chest reflectively, he dragged his head from the bar. He winced against the sudden rush of stiffness and pain, hissing as he sat up fully. Jesse steadied him with a hand on his shoulder.

“You been out cold for a couple a hours. Didn’t figure I needed to wake you up. Customers just pegged you for a drunk.” He flashed a cheeky grin at Hanzo, who rolled his eyes and stood up, prodding Jesse in the side as he did. 

“Here.” The man continued, picking up his red serape and draping it over Hanzo’s shoulders. 

Hanzo stood quietly for a second before raising a hand to it and pulling it to his face. The scent of cigars and whiskey rushed through him and once again he felt himself drenched in a peculiar calm. 

“Can’t rightly let you wear that jacket. S’covered in blood. Jus’ hold on to that for me.” 

Hanzo wasn’t of the mind to complain. 

They stepped out together on to the street, Hanzo’s guard immediately launching up. Hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as his eyes scanned the empty sidewalks. 

A hand on his shoulder.

“Hey now, you’re alright.” 

_ Was he?  _

“C’mon, I didn’t bring the bike. We can walk back, it ain’t far.” 

_ Maybe he was. _

They made their way to Jesse’s door. He lived in a flat not dissimilar to Genji’s. 

Jesse shoved a key in the lock, twisting it between his fingers and pushing in through. 

“Genji’s got a soulmate,” Jesse murmured as he flicked on the lights. The apartment was spacious and well-lived in. On the budget of a man that couldn’t afford luxury but could afford what made him happy.

Hanzo wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement but he knew Jesse’s voice was laced with an emotion his couldn’t put his finger on. Sadness? Envy? He’d never been good at reading people, Genji had always far surpassed him in people skills. 

“Yes.”

“I’ve met Zen. The guy’s real good.” 

Hanzo could only nod his agreement as Jesse set down his key and shut the door behind him. He was unsure of what to do with himself, unsure of where to place himself in the room.    
“Nothing less than what Genji deserves.” He wasn’t sure if he’d entirely meant to say that outloud but the side glance from McCree signified that it was noted. He tugged the serape off from around his shoulders, unwillingly parting with the warm weight around his neck. 

“Thank you,” he uttered sincerely, taking a second to run a hand on the patch covering the stitches of his upper arm. 

“How did they meet?” McCree persisted as he paced into the warm toned living room and gestured to the couch. Hanzo followed his hand, sitting on the red throw there, the pattern much the same as the one that gilded Jesse’s serape. He settled down as the man in question strode to a cabinet to pull out two small glasses and a bottle of brand name whiskey. 

Hanzo was fairly sure he’d need the whiskey before he could answer the question. Though his body had since awakened once again and blood pumped adrenaline-free through him, the overhanging threat of personal analysis sent shivers running down his spine. 

Even asked by McCree, a man seemingly blessed with the art of coaxing words from Hanzo’s lips. 

“Anything other than whiskey?” Hanzo asked instead, derailing the topic. 

“‘Fraid not, amigo.” Still Hanzo could see McCree’s small smile reflected in the glass of the cabinet before which he was stood. He wondered at its origin.

“Do you have family?” Hanzo poked. He knew Jesse was smart enough to sense the wrestling of a conversation but he wasn’t of the mind to care. 

“Of a sort.” 

Cryptic. Hanzo had half a mind to berate Jesse for accusing  _ him _ of being private. But of course, that was all part of the running joke that was anything Jesse McCree ever said. He proved it in a snorting laugh, rolling through his chest and causing him to throw his head back in mirth at Hanzo’s unamused expression. 

“Aw, c’mon doll. Don’t look at me like that. S’just you’re so eager to get to know little old me while I’m quite aware you strolled right on into my bar  _ twice _ now, covered in blood. Dontcha think I might wanna know a little more about you?”

Jesse McCree was more slippery than a fish. 

“Our family was not as simple as most.” Hanzo took a deep breath in and downed the whiskey in the crystal glass as McCree offered it to him, “We grew up under a strict household.” 

Jesse had dropped the amusement from his features, opting to grab the full bottle and bring it to the couch with him, sitting beside Hanzo. 

“Yeah, Genji said you were heirs to some sorta clan?” 

Hanzo shot him a suspicious glare but soon deflated as he met McCree’s eyes, filled with warmth and honesty. 

“Yes. We were.” 

“Is that what your job still is?” 

It was the closest Jesse had yet come to the truth. 

“No.” He frowned then, twisting his mouth, “Would you like to hear of how Genji and Zenyatta met or not?” 

McCree spluttered out a surprised laugh and raised his hands in surrender, “Sorry, sorry darlin’. Carry on.” 

Hanzo didn’t know how to say it, how to put into words exactly how the events of Genji and Zenyatta’s meeting had come to pass without painting himself as the villain of the tale. 

He supposed he was the villain. He had no right to pretend himself otherwise. 

“We belonged to a clan. My father spent much of his life shielding Genji from the worst of the clan elders’ wrath. When he passed away, the mantle was handed to me and I--” He took a shuddering breath, “I was not as lenient.” 

McCree nodded him on but said nothing so he continued.

A half smile. “Has Genji ever told you his soulmark?”

Jesse laughed, “Showed me the second day I knew him.”

“Of course he did.”

“Prettiest soulmark I ever did see though.”

“It is…” Hanzo trailed off, dropping deep into thought, “Our father’s name was Sojiro. He used to call Genji ‘Little Sparrow’ after the mark. I think our father favoured him.” He sighed deeply, “It made me very bitter at the time.” 

“You? Bitter?” Jesse snorted as Hanzo levelled him with a glare. “Sorry, sorry carry on!”

He continued glaring even as Jesse poured him another drink. “I was eager to please the elders and Genji did a good job of disappointing them at every turn.” He grit his teeth, shame already beginning to bubble low in his belly. “I was only glad to aggravate their growing dislike of him. I made no effort in helping steer my brother away from his own self-sabotage.”

He took a sip of the golden whiskey, if only to steady the hands grasping the glass. He could feel the beginnings of tremors in his arms and furrowed his brow.

“He enjoyed the simplistic pleasures of life. Particularly once father died. The Elders couldn’t stand to see an heir to their empire smear our name so.”

“They asked you to kill him?” 

Hanzo stopped, turning to fully face McCree. He was taken aback that Jesse had been able to call what was coming at all. 

“Yes,” he whispered. “But not before Genji had left.” He rubbed at his arm and took another long drink.“He found his soulmark in a book written by Mondatta.”

“I’ve heard Zen talk about him. He was that human rights buddhist, right?” 

“Before he died, Zenyatta was a student under him. Drew the sparrow for the cover of one of his books.” He laughed suddenly, recalling the moment Genji raced into his quarters and shoved the book into his face. At the time, Hanzo had naturally been livid to be disturbed at all but the fire quickly died once fully confronted by the truth of the situation.

“He was elated. I think--I think perhaps he’d been drifting. He mourned our father, he rebelled against the clan. Once faced with a true opportunity to escape, he grasped it by the horns.” 

Hanzo inhaled, “He told me he was going to Nepal to track down Mondatta and the artist of the sparrow.” 

“So did you try to stop him?” McCree had leaned forward, the story having evidently captured his attention.

Hanzo chuckled ruefully, “No. It was ideal in fact. Genji would leave, I would continue my training under the hand of the Elders and no longer would I have to worry about familial dispute.”

_ How wrong he’d been. _

“The Elders were furious. Claimed Genji’s departure would make a mockery of their work, of our clan. For a scion to the family to up and leave? Particularly after several years of his hedonistic pursuits? It was a scandal the family wasn’t willing to let lie.”

Hanzo dragged a hand down his face and sighed deeply, resting back into the cushions of the sofa. He shrugged, sloshing the drink in his hand a little. 

“Once he left they tasked me with finding him and killing him.” He huffed resentfully around the brim as he finished another drink, “My first true venture as head of the clan.” He spat the words bitterly and closed his eyes briefly against the onslaught of regret.

“Genji’s scars…” He heard Jesse mumble.   
Hanzo had to put down the glass in his hand just to prevent breaking it with the sudden need to ball his hands into fists, “My doing.” 

“When he reached out to Mondatta using the family’s connections he was quickly put in contact with Zenyatta. They met at the airport in Nepal. When I found my way there two weeks later, he was staying at a monastery.” Hanzo shook his head. “I was blinded, bitter.” 

Making excuses.

“There is no excuse for what I did to him. If Zenyatta hadn’t found us--hadn’t intervened--I would have finished it, Jesse.” 

He steeled himself against what might come next. What McCree might think of him.

“Did you get away? From your family?”

He looked up, surprised. “I never went back. I couldn’t stay either, not after what I’d already done. For years I wandered. Took out as much as I could fund-wise from the clan and ran.” 

Hanzo stood then, he felt aggravated and McCree simply continued watching with a pensive look on his face. He watched as Hanzo paced back and forth. 

“Are you not bothered by this?” Hanzo bit out, despite not knowing if he actually wanted an answer. McCree simply shrugged in response.    
“Sounds a lot like a man haunted by his past. Runnin’ from it.”

“No. I stopped running.” He struggled with the last word, the very idea of it dirty on his tongue.

“Really? Cause it seems an awful lot like you still are.” 

“And who are you to presume that?” He snarled. Jesse stood and Hanzo half expected a smile or another show of faux surrender but there was no such thing. 

“A man that’s familiar with the concept of runnin’ from ghosts.”

Jesse walked towards him, backing Hanzo up against the wall and pushing their chests together.

“You ain’t the only one that knows what regret means, Han.” 

His heart jackhammered in his chest and his breathing hitched as Jesse’s voice lowered an octave and he leaned in close enough to brush his lips against the shell of Hanzo’s ear.   
“I think you’ve done good by yourself, and by Genji. Y’oughta quit this.”

“This?” Hanzo hazarded, prompting the man into explanation.

“Whatever it is you’re doing to make up for it.”

Hanzo squirmed away from Jesse, pushing past him and gritting his teeth. 

“You’re runnin’ again, sugar.”

Hanzo poured himself another glass and held it between shaking hands, fighting the curling of his lip and the retort waiting at his tongue.

Jesse slipped behind him, snaking an arm around his waist and pulling him close. 

“I don’t deserve this.” Hanzo mumbled.

“Wrong.” Jesse whispered.

“I shouldn’t have told you any of that.”

“Wrong.” Jesse repeated.

Hanzo’s teetering patience fell from its lofty perch and he put his drink back down and swung around, this time being the one to push Jesse to the wall. 

“You don’t know  _ anything about me _ ,” he hissed, one arm held to the wall beside Jesse, the other pushed to his chest.

McCree just grinned, cool despite Hanzo’s barking. He pulled Hanzo in by the arm around his waist and grinned brighter. 

“Wrong.” He sing-songed, leaning down slightly to run a hand down Hanzo’s side. 

His breath hitched in his throat as Jesse’s hand reached the back of his thigh and pulled it up around Jesse’s waist. 

Hanzo bit back a low sound as McCree pushed them together, “C’mon doll, you’re too hard on yourself. Your ma ever tell you your face’ll stick like that?” 

Hanzo didn’t know if he wanted to punch the man or kiss him. Jesse made the decision on which happened first as their lips collided and Hanzo gripped his sides. He felt heat pooling low in his stomach as Jesse rolled his hips and they both parted to draw breath.

“You’re incorrigible,” Hanzo snapped out with little heat. 

“An’ you’re stubborn.” Jesse smiled, even as he wound his hand down and cupped it to the front of Hanzo’s pants. 

He shut his eyes and bared his throat a little as a moan slipped out. 

“You like that, darlin’?” McCree wasted no time peppering Hanzo’s neck with kisses and running his hand just underneath the hem of his shirt. 

Not one to be outdone, Hanzo opened his eyes with a raised brow and reciprocated the action, pressing the own flat of his hand to Jesse’s growing erection through the man’s jeans. “Foolish question.” 

Jesse moaned louder than he did but Hanzo was unsurprised. Nothing of what he’d seen of Jesse McCree had ever indicated self restraint. 

They stumbled backwards together, Hanzo allowing himself to be led by Jesse even as the man refused to part from the ministrations at his throat and neck, sucking and biting at the skin there and causing Hanzo to shudder with pleasure. 

He was guided through a door and into McCree’s bedroom. The bed was large and unmade and the room itself held the lingering scent of spiced cigar smoke. It was a smell Hanzo had come to appreciate. 

He stopped short as they reached the bed and the back of Hanzo’s knees caught the mattress, toppling him back onto it.

He squinted.

“Is that a poster of Clint Eastwood?”

Jesse also paused before laughing and shrugging, climbing atop Hanzo and straddling his waist. He slung his shirt off in one smooth motion.   
“What can I say, darlin’? I’m a fan.” 

Hanzo couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from his chest, “You’re  _ ridiculous _ .”

McCree just grinned and leaned forward to press more kisses to Hanzo’s skin, murmuring as he did, “Love it when you smile, doll.”

Hanzo felt his face heat up and stubbornly turned it to the side. Jesse quickly righted that, pulling his chin up slightly between thumb and forefinger, kissing away any of the lingering anxiety from Hanzo’s frame. 

It was like the man was psychic, like he knew exactly what to say and do, just how to do it. Hanzo was aware of himself and more than aware that he could be difficult to deal with. He was no idiot, nor was he ignorant to those around him or his own flaws. 

Even against Jesse’s lips and the slow rock of hips against his, his thoughts lingered on the feelings shared. 

“C’mon, sit up. Wanna get your damn shirt off.” 

Hanzo obliged, stroking a hand over the expanse of McCree’s skin before lifting his arms up and letting Jesse toss his shirt off. 

First thing McCree did was hiss under his breath as he ghosted feather light touches across the mottling purple and blacks of bruising across his frame. 

Though he still ached, the feeling was far outweighed by the weight of Jesse’s body against his clothed cock. 

Jesse’s eyes then settled on his chest. 

He traced the soul mark scrawled on Hanzo’s skin, brow furrowing as he mouthed the words to himself. 

Hanzo watched with bated breath.

“It sounds like something you’d say.” 

Unlike Jesse it seemed Hanzo wasn’t as talented for saying the right thing at the right time. Jesse seemingly collapsed on on himself, shoulders hunching as he ran a hand across Hanzo’s breast. 

“Yeah...I s’pose it does.”

There were no recorded cases of a soulmark not being reciprocated. 

And Jesse didn’t have one at all. 

Hanzo realised with some chagrin he’d shoved that directly under Jesse’s nose. 

He raised a hand slowly and cupped it to Jesse’s cheek. No matter the future or the daunting inevitabilities of life, he just wanted to enjoy the moment. Enjoy his time with Jesse for better or for worse because in the end, Hanzo hadn’t had many moments to sit back and smell the roses, hadn’t known time in which to appreciate life for the simplistic art of two beating hearts and a bottle of whiskey. He wanted to though, wanted to know what it was to wake up to lazy I love you’s and open his heart freely without fear of rebuttal. And if he did have a soulmate out there somewhere, if he ever met them, “I find myself doubting they could ever hold a candle to you, Jesse McCree.” He finished the last trail of thought out loud, and Jesse met his eyes with a fearful honesty, emotion laid bare. 

Jesse opened his mouth to say something, brown eyes crinkling with that same natural fondness that had glued Hanzo’s own eyes to him the first time they’d really looked at each other.

Then their mouths were pressed against each other and Jesse was rolling his hips anew, grinding into Hanzo’s pants and pulling groans from his throat. 

He ran his hand across Hanzo’s chest and grinned widely as he sighed around the smile. 

Hanzo’s thoughts left coherent process as Jesse laved his tongue past Hanzo’s ear and whispered against it, “Gonna enjoy this. Wanted to get my hands on you the moment you first walked into my bar.” 

Hanzo bucked up against Jesse’s ass only to be steadied by a hand at his hip. 

“Hey now, darlin’. Let’s take this easy. Wanna take my g’damn time with you.” 

Hanzo was not a patient man.

He reached forward and pulled at the buttons of Jesse’s jeans, only to have his hands swatted away and for Jesse to inch his head down his body, trailing kisses and bites until he reached a nipple and closed his mouth around it. 

“ _ Fu _ \--” Hanzo covered his mouth with a hand as his body arched off the bed in response to the tongue lapping at sensitive skin. Jesse sucked at him and dragged nails lightly down his sides. It’d been a while for Hanzo, and his body reacted to every light touch and breath against his skin with a shiver. 

Jesse’s hand pressed to his crotch again; even as he mouthed at Hanzo’s nipple, he rubbed strong circles against Hanzo through his pants. He cursed in Japanese and wrapped his hand in Jesse’s hair, pulling on it lightly. 

The attention to his clothed cock and nipple was going to be enough to drive him over the edge if McCree didn’t stop.

Jesse looked up as Hanzo tugged again and raised a brow at him, smirking from underneath it. His lips were slick with spit and Hanzo dragged him up by the hair to connect their mouths again.

“Let me taste you, honey. Wanna get my lips around your cock.” Jesse breathed between kisses and Hanzo felt himself grow impossibly harder. He could only wordlessly nod his assent as he helped Jesse pull his pants and underwear off. 

The cool air against his dick felt incredible, but as he lay there naked he also realised how very exposed he was. Jesse wasted no time settling himself between Hanzo’s thighs, running his hands underneath them and pinching teasingly at his ass.

The only thing that stopped Hanzo from kicking Jesse square in the jaw was the promise of a blowjob and the very sight of Jesse’s head between his legs. McCree damn well knew it too as the man laughed and his eyes filled with mirth. 

He licked a line from Hanzo’s balls up the base of his dick before sucking lightly at the tip. Hanzo swore he saw stars as his head hit the pillow and he groaned deeply. 

“S’good, sweetheart?”

_ Shut up, _ Hanzo wanted to bite at him, but could only muster a soft grunt as McCree’s mouth closed around him again and his lips slipped further down his cock, enveloping Hanzo in the wet warmth of his mouth. 

McCree met his eyes as he stilled and Hanzo read the wordless invitation, beginning to undulate his hips up and down. Slowly he thrusted into McCree’s mouth as the man’s fingernails bit half moons into his skin and he bobbed his head in time.

“So good _ , you feel so good around me. _ ” Hanzo mumbled out slipping into his native tongue as he did. Jesse’s cheeks grew redder as he pushed Hanzo’s hips down and pulled off his cock with a wet slurp. 

Hanzo wondered if he looked as completely wrecked as he felt. 

“Here,” he said, pulling Jesse up to him so he could flip their positions and pull McCree’s pants off. Jesse gladly obliged, kicking them onto the floor besides Hanzo’s own pile of clothes. 

Jesse’s cock was thick and already leaking with want, slicking it ready. Hanzo wrapped his hand around it and pumped a couple of times. Jesse reacted with his body and mouth, letting out a small guttural groan and fisting his hands in the sheets around Hanzo’s body. Hanzo lowered his hips down and thrusted wetly against Jesse’s dick, his own still wet with the man’s spit. 

“Holy Christ, darlin’.” Jesse managed. Loose strands of hair stuck to his sweat sticky forehead and Hanzo pressed a kiss to it. 

Jesse took them both in hand as they bucked and pushed against each other together, moans intermingling as Hanzo braced himself on a forearm beside Jesse’s head. 

It didn’t take long before Hanzo was biting down on his lip and coming hard, spilling white on Jesse’s soft stomach. 

“Yeah, just like that sweetheart.” McCree stroked him through it, his own dick still rock hard against Hanzo’s. 

Once Hanzo’s head stopped spinning with his orgasm and the post coital calm hit him, he inched down, despite Jesse trying to prevent him.

“Let me.” He smirked as he imitated Jesse’s motion from a few minutes ago, licking a line up the man’s twitching cock. 

“Ahn-- _ shit _ .” 

It didn’t take long before Jesse was also coming white spurts against Hanzo’s lips. 

He used his thumb to brush the corner of his mouth clean, sucking the come from his fingers.

McCree watched on in hazed awe, “Holy high hell darlin’. What in blue blazes did I do to deserve you?”

“I’m easily won over by strong sake and good company.” Hanzo smiled, crawling up the bed and collapsing down.

Jesse wasted no time in swinging an arm off the bed, picking up his own shirt and using it to wipe the mess from them both before balling it up and tossing it to the side. He slipped an arm under Hanzo’s head then, encouraging the man to half-lie against his chest. 

They lay there in silence for a while, the steady thrum of McCree’s heartbeat against his ear lulling him to the precipice of sleep. 

He would have fallen to it if not for the sudden realisation of the date the next day and the looming danger of it. The men he’d killed had been the beginning to what was to come. 

He couldn’t help the sudden tension in his body and the sudden need to move again as the anxiety clawed at his insides and scared away any thought of sleep.

“Han?” Jesse’s arm tightened around him, “Y’alright?” 

He squeezed his eyes shut and tucked his head into Jesse’s skin just for a second, allowing himself one last luxury before swinging his legs out of bed and pacing around it. 

“I have to go.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jesse sit up a little. Watched as his face fell with resignation.

“Am I gonna be able to say anythin’ to convince you to stay?”

Hanzo buttoned his jeans and paused, turning to face the man in the bed. He sighed an apology and half climbed atop him to press kisses to his face and his lips.

“I’m sorry.” He said sincerely as he pulled off again, holding Jesse’s hand in his as he did. McCree tightened his grip for a second before letting go as Hanzo stooped and picked up his shirt, pulling it on. 

“I am sorry.” He said once more, backing out of the doorway and away from the beautiful, disappointed face of Jesse McCree. 

As he stepped out of the apartment and onto the cold streets of early morning, he breathed in deeply through his nose, biting back the frustrated scream he so desperately wanted to let loose. 

As he broke into a jog if only to expend some of the pent up anxiety gnawing at him he set his brow in a harsh line and held his bloodied jacket close to his chest. 

Jesse’s words spun through his head.

He was right.

He was running. 

Always running. 

He stopped and sighed, chest heaving as he stared up at the dark sky and paced for a second to and fro on the quiet street. 

“ _ DAMN IT. _ ” He cursed loudly before pulling out his phone and texting Genji, sweat running tracks down the side of his face as he did. 

**Hanzo: I need your help.**

Genji wasted no time responding.

**Genji: I’m with you, brother.**

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah that rating got bumped up how bah dah  
> I was so wrong to think I could do this in 4 chapters.   
> There's gonna be another one yet.  
> [Tsol](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorQui/pseuds/DoctorQui), my beta, light of my life.   
> Also here is my [Tumblr](http://mccrees-left-arm.tumblr.com/) >:D


	5. Chapter 5

It didn’t take long for Hanzo to find his way to Genji’s apartment, but the second Genji laid eyes on Hanzo’s bruised face and bound arm he crumpled a little. 

“I did not know it was this bad for you,” he said, voice strained.

“I do what I must.” 

Something in Genji’s wilted further, bending to match the sad droop to his shoulders. Hanzo found himself pulling a face, struck with how easily he could diminish his brother’s happy spark. He’d always had a talent for it, but contrary to popular belief he’d never relished in it. 

“I would not drag you into this unless it was of the utmost importance.”

Genji’s eyes lit up in complete indignation, as if Hanzo had struck a nerve with molten iron.“I  _ want _ to help. I-- You have no idea Hanzo. You’ve always been so trapped in your own head. You never gave me a chance.”

“I--”

Genji waved his hand, “No! No more of it. Never once. Not even in our youth.”

The words struck Hanzo like a physical blow to the gut. 

“I am so tired of it, brother.”

His hands were shaking at his sides so he balled them up into fists and set his mouth to a scowl. All Hanzo could see were the scars moving around Genji’s mouth as he spoke, his cheekbones strewn with soft lines of white and interwoven with trailing pinks.

“I am  _ capable _ of helping you. I have always been capable. When father died if you had just--”

“No,” Hanzo spat, quickly derailing the topic.

“See? You are doing it again. You’re not talking to me! You are not letting me help you!” He threw his hands up in frustration.

“There is nothing to help.”

“Liar. You are a liar.” Genji’s lip was quivering in a way that reminded Hanzo distinctly of when they were children. All the aggression in Hanzo’s body escaped him.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he admitted.

Genji’s furrowed brow was interrupted as he pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “I am about to tell you something, Hanzo, and you must swear to me you will give me the opportunity to explain myself before you--” He gestured vaguely, as if searching for the right word, “React.” 

Confused, Hanzo frowned.

“What?”

“Just swear it, Hanzo.”

He didn’t like it but acquiesced nonetheless, “Fine. I swear it.”   
Genji seemed torn and glanced around the room as if looking for an escape before settling his sights back on Hanzo.   
“I know about Sombra.”

He could swear his heart skipped a physical beat in pure shock. “How?”

“Because I work for her.”

Hanzo jaw didn’t quite drop, but it was a close thing.

“ _ Well _ ,” Genji amended, beginning to pace nervously, “With her. I work alongside her.”

“How long?” Hanzo asked eventually, too dumbfounded to do anything but gape at his brother pacing to and fro agitatedly as the world he thought he’d had pegged shattered around him.

His brother paused at that, “Six years.”

Hanzo had been working with her for four. 

“Zenyatta--?”

“He knows.” Genji affirmed with a light shrug and the same stubborn set to his jaw that Hanzo himself often wore.

“You never thought it prudent to let  _ me _ know?”

“You would have intervened.”

“Of course I would have intervened! Everything I have done thus far has been to keep you safe. To maybe one day redeem myself--”

“I do not need to be protected, brother!”

“ _ Yes you do! _ ” He snarled in Japanese, glaring daggers at Genji. Hemet them with a firm scowl of his own.

Genji was also the first to break eye contact, pacing angrily to the large dark wood cabinet in the corner of the room. He pulled a key from behind it and shoved it into the lock, swinging the doors open and gesturing to its’ innards.  

Within was mounted a sword Hanzo had thought long lost.

_ Ryu-ichimonji  _ glinted green and silver menacingly back at him against the lowlight of the room, as if Hanzo’s gaze sparked its very essence. As if it knew of its own past. 

Hanzo’s mind reeled back to the last time he’d seen it.

_ Genji dropped the katana to the floor from the wet grasp of bleeding fingers. “I’m not going to fight you, brother.” He’d begged against the loud clatter of metal against stone. _

_ Hanzo had laughed.  _

_ And lunged.  _

A hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present even as something in him snapped.  

It took a second to realise the sound of choked noises filling the room were his own and he raised shaking palms to his eyes, shocked that they came away damp.  

He allowed Genji to guide him to the sofa and sit him down.

They were quiet, bar Hanzo’s occasional gasp for breath. 

“I’m sorry,” Genji whispered eventually, “That was incredibly inconsiderate of me.” 

Hanzo wanted to shout at him for the sincerity in his tone but the clawing at his throat and struggle to breathe consistently disallowed him from speaking, so he could only grit his teeth and glare. 

It had been years since he’d last cried. 

Decades since it’d been in front of someone. 

He felt too vulnerable, too exposed. His shoulders kept shuddering against his will and his need to flee the situation soon outweighed the original reason he’d arrived. The second he got up Genji immediately intercepted him with a quick hop in front. Hanzo’s breath left his body in a rush as his brother clasped strong arms around him and tugged him to his chest. 

“Don’t leave, brother. Not now. Not after this.” The grip around him tightened as Genji held him rooted to the spot.

He blinked blurriness from his vision and flexed his hands, unsure of what to do with them.

“Are you  _ hugging _ me?”

Genji laughed wetly against Hanzo’s shirt, “ _ Yes, brother. I am hugging you. _ ” The Japanese was soft and familiar, a needed addition to the sudden raw emotional presence in the room.

“ _ I do not deserve it. _ ”

“ _ Maybe not. But I deserve the choice to offer it nonetheless. _ ”

“ _ It is a mistake. _ ”

“ _ You owe me the right to choose whom I offer forgiveness to _ ”

Hanzo couldn’t stop the stream of tearsdown his cheeks even as his shaking hands lifted to wrap around Genji.

“ _ I am beyond forgiveness. _ ”

“ _ You are my brother and I love you. We have endured more than most but do not ever doubt that. _ ”

Hanzo squeezed his eyes shut.

Zenyatta found them the next morning half-leaning on each other fast asleep in front of the television playing an outdated sitcom. He glaced at the open cabinet and paced over, closing it softly so as not to disturb the sleeping brothers.

  
  


**McCree: did you get home alright?**

**McCree: darlin you gotta let me know if you’re okay**

**McCree: han?**

**McCree: you can’t pull this shit on me, sweetheart**

**1 Missed Call: McCree**

**McCree: han**

**McCree: genji aint answering where the hell are you**

**1 Missed call: McCree**

**McCree: if u turn up dead somewhere im bringing u back to life to kill u again honey**

**1 Missed call: McCree**

**McCree: you’re the kinda fella my ma warned me about**

**McCree: haha**

**McCree: but really sugar im gonna kill you if you aint already dead**

**McCree: if you are already dead then im sorry I guess**

**2 Missed Calls: McCree**

**McCree: shoulda walked ya home**

**McCree: shit**

Hanzo frowned as he swiped through the messages he’d missed the previous night. After the conversation with his brother, they’d both passed out hard.

“Seems Mr. McCree messaged me last night too.” Genji laughed as he rounded the corner from the kitchen and tossed Hanzo an apple and his phone.

Hanzo grabbed both from the air and stuck the apple in his mouth as he turned the screen around and squinted at the texts.

**J.McCree: tell me hanzo is with you**

**1 Missed call: J.McCree**

**J.McCree: is this a brother thing? Not answering your damn phones?**

The only thing stopping him from finding the scenario partially amusing was the weighing press of guilt. 

“I should call him.” Hanzo said around a mouthful of apple as Genji just snorted loudly.

“You? Confront an issue? Ha--” He stopped suddenly, his eyes widening a little when faced with Hanzo’s chagrined fidgeting. “Wait...Holy shit did you  _ sleep _ with him?”

Hanzo balked and pretended not to hear, instead tossing Genji his phone back.

Genji knew full well his brother’s tells and threw his head back in laughter. “Oh holy shit _ , _ Hanzo you  _ did _ sleep with him.”

Hanzo levelled a deadpan stare at him, “I don’t believe that’s any of your business.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Genji doubled over in laughter, “H-Holy shit you slept with him, then up and left. You are an  _ idiot _ .”

Hanzo’s neutral stare quickly devolved into a glare, “It is  _ none _ of your business.”

“Now, now Genji. That’s enough.” Zenyatta smiled as he walked in and was confronted with the sight of Genji doubled over, slapping his knee. It was a valiant attempt to defuse the situation, even as Genji lifted his phone and the sound of the camera shutter effect had Hanzo snapping his head up. 

He leapt from the sofa and made a grab for the phone to which his brother effortlessly jumped out of the way and behind Zenyatta. 

Two seconds too late Hanzo managed to snatch it out of a laughing Genji’s hands and checked the sent messages. 

A photo of himself glaring pointedly at the floor, hair a bedraggled mess around his face. The general expression one might associate with a man sucking lemons. As he was still looking at it when a message appeared.

**J.McCree: im going to kill both of you**

**J.McCree: also tell him he looks good**

**J.McCree: pity i gotta kill him**

Hanzo quickly deleted the texts in order to deny Genji the satisfaction of seeing them before throwing the phone back at him with a little more force than strictly necessary. 

Despite Genji’s teasing and Hanzo’s own prickly responses, he felt for the first time in years like a weight had been lifted from him. A weight he hadn’t even fully realised was there until it was gone. Like suddenly the tension had drained from his body and though it wasn’t  _ cured, _ he was hurting less. 

“Hanzo?” 

Genji’s tone was thoughtful and Hanzo realised his own expression had settled into something neutral.

“Why did you ask me for help?” 

Both Zenyatta and Genji were watching him from behind the kitchen counter and Hanzo closed his eyes, exhaling a long breath. According to Sombra’s intel he’d have several hours before hostiles were due at the dock warehouses they’d stationed at. 

“Sombra has alerted me to a situation I do not think I can handle alone.”

He watched the minute widening of Genji’s eyes and acknowledged that his own admittance of hesitation alluded to the severity of the situation. Still something nagged at him.

“Were you not aware?” 

Genji’s mouth twisted in distaste, “Sombra works her own playing field. We take whatever she gives us information-wise.”

“I was under the impression you worked directly with each other.”

Genji frowned and Hanzo filled in the blanks, “You are still keeping something from me.”

His brother looked to Zenyatta with a pleading expression so Zen intervened on Genji’s behalf. “It is not our place to say, Hanzo. You have chosen to trust us. Please continue to do so.” 

Hanzo’s temper threatened to flare, but was soon extinguished by Genji’s hurried interruption. “I will tell you everything, brother. All of it. But first let us handle this crisis.” 

He didn’t figure he’d get a better option and so relented the scowl and pulled back to sit on a stool against the kitchen counter.    
“From what I have been made aware of, there will be an influx of Shimada activity. Sombra has neither confirmed nor denied they know where I live. Still, I’m not fool enough to return until the situation has been handled.”

Genji and Zenyatta exchanged knowing glances again and Hanzo found himself biting down a remark about being left in the dark. It was Zenyatta that spoke up, “How many?”

“She hasn’t specified. But enough for her to recommend support.” 

Genji clicked his tongue. “That’s going to be a few then. She has faith in your capabilities, she wouldn’t recommend backup to you unless she understood it to be dire, brother.”

“Talk about me often, does she?” 

Genji barked a laugh, “Doe-eyed. Truly.”

“The walls have ears Genji, if she catches you saying things like that I’m afraid you won’t have for much longer.” Zenyatta smiled sweetly.

Hanzo snorted at that, releasing a relieved puff of air. “So you will help me in this?”

“Of course, brother. It is as much my neck on the line as it is yours.”

“Charming to know your own sense of self-preservation holds a line in this.”

“Doesn’t it always?”

Hanzo scoffed, “No.”

“We have both been working separately on this for too long. Let us demonstrate to them why it is that the heirs of the Shimada Gumi should not be provoked lightly.”

Hanzo’s stomach rolled in anticipation at the sound of Genji’s determination. He hadn’t fought alongside his brother in many years. 

Hanzo’s gaze was drawn once again to Genji’s hesitation behind the veil of certainty. “I’m going to have to call my people.” 

“And I have...somewhere to be.” Hanzo admitted, feet inching towards the door even as he spoke. Genji grinned knowingly and nodded him forward, tapping on his mobile even as he did. “Go, reconcile with Jesse. I’ll call you when it’s time.”

“Thank you.” Hanzo said earnestly, grasping his brother’s shoulder in appreciation before leaving through the door. 

McCree would be at work and Hanzo intended to meet him there. He just hoped that he would not blame him too harshly, as in the end Hanzo had done something good for himself. Granted, it was in as obscure a way as possible, but any step forward was a good one, no matter the means. He half-jogged down the stairs, aware his body still ached and the painkillers in his blood had long since worn off. He knew not to let it concern him too greatly, adrenaline would douse any lingering pain when the real fighting began.

He could see Jesse’s face in his mind’s eye, the disappointed tug of his lips as he’d vanished from the bedroom and left him to his own assumptions.He was so deep in his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice someone leaning against the wall aside the entrance to the building.

They grabbed his arm. 

He acted without thinking or even seeing, coiling his arm back and letting it fly into the face of his assailant.

“AH SHIT, WHAT THE--”

The man holding his arm let go even as a Stetson fell to the floor and one Jesse McCree went stumbling backwards, clutching a hand to his now-bleeding nose.

Hanzo could only gawk.

“.. _ Jesse? _ ”

“Yesh,  _ Jeshe! _ ” McCree hissed, slurred by the freely flowing nose.

Hanzo’s eyebrows flew up as he pulled out his phone and dialled Zenyatta’s number, aware Genji may still be on the phone to his people. He watched McCree fuss over his nose as he did, desperately trying to stem the flow with his serape.

Zen answered.

“Zenyatta may I bring McCree up?”

“Sorry?”

“I may have broken his nose.”

“You left the apartment not five minutes ago, Hanzo, how have you accomplished this?”

Hanzo made eye contact with an astonished, bemused McCree. 

He also realised Zenyatta could not hear him shrug.

Zen huffed a small laugh, “Of course, let yourselves in. I will put on some tea.” He hung up.

Jesse and Hanzo stood staring at each other for a second. 

“I apologise for your nose but you should not have caught me unawar--”

He was interrupted by Jesse’s arm being slung around his neck and his body being pulled physically into a strong embrace. 

Jesse pressed a kiss to the crown of his head and Hanzo pretended not to be appalled by the feeling of Jesse’s nosebleed against his hair. 

“Darlin’, now don’t get me wrong I wish ya hadn’t’ve socked me. But I’m sure as hell glad you’re alive to do it. Scared me half outta my mind last night, disappearin’ like that.” He mumbled in a rush.

Hanzo frowned a little against Jesse’s collar. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. I just dunno what came over me, jus’ thought of you stumbling into my bar half-delirious soaked in blood and--” He stopped himself, taking a deep breath through his mouth, “Jus’ panicked I guess. It was strange though, like I couldn’t think straight. Like I couldn’t breathe.” 

Something in Hanzo’s chest pulled and he leaned his forehead against Jesse’s shoulder.

They stood there for a few seconds before Jesse pulled off and clapped his hand back around his nose. It wasn’t enough to hide his relieved grin, and Hanzo hated to admit it but once he placed his hat back atop his head the whole ensemble made him look handsomely roguish. 

“What happened to killing me?” Hanzo teased lightly as he pulled the door to the apartment open and ushered them both to the stairs.

“Was distracted by the fist to the face.” 

Hanzo knew he probably shouldn’t snort, but he did anyway. 

“Well at least now we match,” Jesse mumbled, and it was true. There was already purple blossoming just under his left eye and the blood drying to his chin through his beard was a gory thing to behold, much like the scrapes and bruises littering Hanzo’s own face.

“Suits you.”

“Thank you kindly,” Jesse deadpanned back. 

When they got back into the apartment Genji was just hanging up his phone. He turned to the door only for his face to split in half with a grin that quickly escalated into uproarious laughter. Even Zenyatta seemed to be having trouble keeping the peace between his own need to stifle chuckling.

“Yeah yeah, fellas. Real funny.” McCree snarked as he took a proffered damp cloth from Zenyatta’s hand and began cleaning himself up. Hanzo hovered next to him, avoiding Genji’s gleeful eye contact. He took Jesse’s hand in his and tugged him to the away from the company of his brother. McCree obliged, stumbling after him as Hanzo led them into a side room and closed the door behind him with a click. 

The office space was clean and well-lit, a desk and office chair aside a small bookshelf scattered with various biographies and writings on philosophy being the only real items in there. A single window shined the light of the morning down into the white room. 

Hanzo didn’t release his grasp on McCree’s hand as he led him to the chair and sat him down in it. He held out a hand to the cloth and mumbled a thanks as Jesse handed it over to him, then stood between Jesse’s legs as he pressed the cool material to under his eye. 

“Boss is gonna sack me.”

He could tell McCree was simply grouching.

“Then perhaps you should not have skipped your shift.”

“Wouldn’t have been able to work ‘til I saw you.”

Hanzo’s heart clenched behind his ribs and he quickly focussed on the task of cleaning Jesse up rather than making eye-contact with him. 

Hanzo said, “I should not have left.” at the same time as McCree said, “I shoulda walked you back.”

Jesse pulled Hanzo in at the hips, pressing a soft kiss to his stomach.   
It was then that Hanzo realised the feeling pounding away in his chest wasn’t trepidation; although he was unsure. It wasn’t fear either; though he was terrified. And it wasn’t happiness; though he was overjoyed.

He knew Jesse didn’t have a soulmark. 

He wondered at what that meant.

And then concluded that he didn’t care.

He twined his fingers in Jesse’s hair as the man pushed his forehead against Hanzo’s stomach and let himself be thoughtful in the quiet peace, Jesse’s breath against his midriff a comforting solace amidst the onslaught of emotion. Hanzo’s emotional capacity was near enough short-circuiting with the bombardment of highs and lows within the last several days. 

He knew Jesse must also understand.

They were soulmates after all. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so you know i said that this would be the last chapter?  
> things got outta hand  
> awesome beta: [Tsol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorQui/pseuds/DoctorQui) aaand here's my [tumblr](http://mccrees-left-arm.tumblr.com/)  
> next and final chapter is gonna be called all hell breaks loose   
> cause it sure as heck is gonna


	6. Chapter 6

Hanzo had always understood that life worked in simple metaphors. It flowed like a river, untouched and in constant motion. All things in the river need move with the flow or drown in it. 

He understood that. 

And yet he insisted on struggling against it with every new turn and bend. 

This fact was so easily construed as a fatal flaw, yet it was not one.

In fact it was quite the opposite. 

Those who struggled against the flow grew stronger, learned how to move through it. They appreciated the highs for they were fewer and therefore worth more, and when the true strain began they could stand their ground against the tide. 

It was a state of life he had often comforted himself with. The fact that no matter what came his way, he was ready to meet it with eyes steeled and shoulders squared. 

As he watched McCree drop to the floor like a deadweight before him and red begin to stain the grey concrete he knew his ideals on life were as easy to shatter as glass. 

And so was he.

 

“Are you ready, Hanzo?” Genji grasped his shoulder and he nodded. They perched together atop a roof in the downtown area not too far from the docks on which he had worked a handful of days ago. The sun had long since dipped its light beyond the horizon and they were left only with the sparsely dotted streetlamps and the distant glaring floodlights of the warehouses around them.

“It is not I who need prepare.” 

Surprised, Genji barked a laugh. “Is that confidence, or arrogance?”

“I simply take inspiration from you, brother.” He smirked something wicked as he dropped from the ledge and rolled through the landing. He would not admit it out loud, but a small part of him yearned to demonstrate his grown ability to Genji. They had not fought aside one another in so long and he had vastly developed as a combatant since his youth. 

“And look! He’s a show off too!” 

As always his brother saw straight through him but made no move to follow him down, instead springing into a surprisingly lithe jump and pitching himself atop another flat roof.

Never one to be outshone, Hanzo kicked off on the wall beside him to launch himself to the opposite brick face, momentarily scrabbling for purchase against the rock as he pulled up onto the new ledge.

Genji was already crouched at its opposite end, the katana and wakizashi strapped to his back and side making for an intimidating silhouette. His brother glanced at him, shadows just sparse enough to reveal the grin gracing his scarred face.

“Slowing down, Hanzo?” 

He grumbled but joined him, following the direction of his finger as he pointed out towards a warehouse a few leagues away. “My people are stationed there. Four of them in total. One’s the boss.”

Hanzo recognised the bizarrity in that and tilted his head in confusion. “Your leader would get involved?” 

Genji shrugged, “Our contract dictates he aids me in any Shimada assassination attempts.”

“Personally?” Hanzo replied dubiously.

“It seems he has taken special interest in you.” 

Huffing he stood, “I am not looking for an employer.”

“Nor he an employee, he’s really more of a patron.” 

“I am not looking for a patron.” 

Genji shook his head and laughed. “Hanzo, one day your stubbornness will kill us all.”

“For now let us focus.” He remained crouched, cold concrete beneath his fingertips a grounding sense amidst the itching of pre-fight. 

“Yes, let’s.” Genji sat beside him, “According to Sombra their planned attack on you is in 5 hours. They’re using this time for strategic planning and preparations.”

“She mentioned something about a mole in the system?”

“Yes, one we have since,” he cleared his throat, “Dispatched.” 

“So this intel is correct?” 

Genji shrugged, “I am not a hacker, so I can only take her word for it. The boss seems confident though so I will follow his lead.” 

“The last time I took her word for something I got shot.” 

“You-- You  _ what _ ?” 

Hanzo balked, “It is nothing.”

“You got  _ shot _ ?”

“Only slightly.”

“ _ Hanzo--” _

A line buzzed through Genji’s comm loud enough for Hanzo to hear, “Ladies if we’re done?” 

Genji scrabbled in surprise with the comm for a second before throwing up his hands in annoyance. “Yes, sir.” He shot a pointed glare at Hanzo that screamed ‘ _ This isn’t over yet. _ ’

“Good. In that case move on the agreed position.” 

Hanzo could swear he recognised the gruff voice.

“I’m going to be taking forward line with the others. You’re gonna be stationed a little ways off. Up there.” Genji pointed to the front of a warehouse covered in scaffolding. “Think you can manage that?” 

He knew it for the provocation it was and rolled his eyes, already shuffling closer to the edge, ready to jump. Genji stopped him with a hand on his arm before he could.    
“I am glad to be fighting alongside you again.”

Hanzo’s heart burned with something warm, “And I you, brother.” 

Just like that they parted, dashing their separate ways. The shadows disguised Hanzo’s movements to the scaffolding even despite the wide road. The complete lack of cover was assumedly why he’d been positioned where he had. With eyes to the front of the hostile warehouse, he’d have good position to pick off stragglers or runners. As well as any main party his own group could pull from the enemy’s.

“Positioned.” he spoke into the borrowed com he’d procured from Genji, the thing hooked around his ear similar to the last job he’d been on.

“Good.” It was his brother that replied, “We’re moving out.” 

The com went silent and Hanzo was left to crouch on the wooden slats, readying the grip of his bow in his hand and resting an arrow against it ready to nock. 

He couldn’t help his thoughts drifting to Jesse as they so often did. He’d left the man with Zenyatta back at Genji’s. Promised him he’d return and explain everything, much as Genji had promised him the same. McCree had nodded, but something in his expression had suggested disquiet and Hanzo wondered vaguely how much those around him were really keeping secret. 

The sight of two team members rushing the distance to the opposing warehouse broke his train of thought and he levelled his bow on them, ready to draw at any sign of threat. They made it to the entrance before gunshots began resounding around the metal space and Hanzo’s instincts prickled dangerously. He whipped around just in time to avoid spray from enemy fire at his six. 

He heard how close he’d come to being brushed by it in the sparking clangs of the bullets ricocheting from the metal scaffolding poles surrounding him. Rather than falling back he turned to the source of the enemy fire, levelling his bow and drawing smoothly.

He let the arrow loose, watching it bury itself in the exposed leg of an attacker. The man’s cry of pain attracted the attention of his allies and the two were swiftly dispatched.

“ _ You have a com, archer. Use it. _ ” A gruff voice broke through his earpiece and he realised with a start that he  _ did _ recognise it.

“G.Rey?” He hazarded.

“ _ Reyes. _ ”

He fell into silence, the insinuations of Genji being affiliated with a former contact too complicated for him to attempt to decipher in the midst of battle. Reyes seemed to pick up on this and spoke up. 

“ _ Any questions you have can be dealt with after. The mission takes priority. _ ”

They could agree on that, “Understood.”

Comlines chattered incessantly after that, agents assessing hostile positions and working on pushing them from the warehouse. 

A familiar voice spoke up among the rabble, “ _ Sombra online.” _

“ _ Any new intel?” _ Reyes responded.

“ _ You have them panicking. But they’re not calling for reinforcements. Kinda leaves me wondering if that means they still think they’ve got a chance here or these are all there are.” _

“ _ The Shimada don’t give up without exhausting our--their options.” _ Hanzo heard Genji’s voice enter the line, sounding vaguely winded.

_ “Then we need only push them into the open and the mission is secured.”  _ Reyes finished and the line fell silent again.  __

Chaos soon erupted as the spattering of gunfire lit the darkened space up in quick bursts of light. A flash of green signalled his brother’s entrance. Hanzo watched as Genji dashed by an enemy on the floor, slicing through a man as clean as one would dice air. 

However, Genji had risked his flank dashing forward like that and Hanzo’s eye trained on a hostile below, a man clad hastily in combats as if he’d just woken up. 

Perhaps he had. 

Hanzo could remedy that for him.

He nocked another arrow and drew swiftly, head aimed perfectly below before firing. The man hit the floor before he could comprehend his own mortality, the shaft of the arrow protruding from his head just another shadow in the darkness. 

Seeming only then to realise his unprotected back, his brother looked up at Hanzo and waved a jaunty salute. 

Hanzo only regretted Genji couldn’t see his unimpressed scowl.

“ _ Thanks! _ ” His voice sing-songed in Hanzo’s ear.

The mission went smoothly, clean cut and well-executed. He worked well with the group, similar to the last mission that had been fronted by Reyes. The man himself could be seen below, often close to Genji’s side, the two shotguns booming unearthly sounds into the night as men dropped like flies under their fire. 

Hanzo himself need in the end do very little as the cleanup was astoundingly simple and those within the warehouse were soon completely wiped out. 

Once the last man had been dispatched, Hanzo climbed down from the scaffolding and paced towards Genji. He was unharmed bar a bruise to his cheek and was grinning from ear to ear, obviously giddy with adrenaline. 

“Brother! You can still shoot a bow.” 

“My thanks.” Hanzo responded dryly, shooting Genji a raised brow. 

“This is Gabriel Reyes. Our commander.” 

“And Sombra.” A woman spoke up, trailing the man clad in black. It was the first time Hanzo had laid eyes on the Reyes without a mask. His face was scarred eerily similar to Genji’s; unlike his brother, however, Gabriel’s mouth was set in a stern line and his eyes suggested perhaps he had seen one too many lost fights. 

Despite his harsh exterior the man extended a hand. 

“Hanzo. Maybe the bow isn’t as bad a choice as I first thought.” 

Hanzo could probably spend days deciphering whether that was a compliment or a backhanded insult. He chose to completely ignore it.    
“Genji tells me you lead this group.”

“I do.” 

“And you sponsor him?” 

The man laughed something sharp, “He works for me. I employ him.” 

Genji looked like he wanted to argue but thought better of it, crossing his arms over his chest.

The woman next to him laughed and smirked. Gabe turned to her and scowled, “What?”

Sombra slipped into spanish, the playful mischief in her smirk making the language change all the more suspicious, “ _ Alguien debería darle algunos consejos de coqueteo _ .”

Hanzo watched Gabriel roll his eyes, “ _ Estoy tratando de contratarlo, no seducirlo. _ ” 

“ _ Pues, imagino que él tiene el vaquero para eso _ ” Sombra laughed after she finished, turning her gaze back on Hanzo, “The boss wants to hire you.”

Reyes ran his hand down his face in long-suffering exasperation. 

Hanzo looked to Genji, who schooled his face into complete neutrality. Hanzo got the message--this was for him to decide. 

“I would need to know more about your…” He gestured to the men and women around still hauling bodies away, “Organisation.”

“H,” Sombra deadpanned suddenly, tilting her head in apparent disappointment, “I have been dropping hints  _ everywhere _ .”

“Excuse me?”

“Blackwatch. They call us Blackwatch.” Genji responded, expression still neutral.    
Hanzo’s brows shot up. 

“Your first mission with me was a trial run, and you performed well.” Reyes crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back, awaiting Hanzo’s reaction.

His mind raced so fast he had trouble keeping up with the train of thought. Blackwatch Bar, G.Reys…”McCree?” He said aloud, eyes landing on all of them.

But then on Genji.

“ _ McCree _ ?” He hissed again as Genji winced. 

“It was never my place to tell you.”

It all clicked into place, “You were watching me. Grooming me for Blackwatch. That’s how you got my details I gave them to--”

“Jesse. Yes. The bar has been a cover for as many years as I’ve been in charge.” Gabe finished, unabashed by Hanzo’s revelation.

“You were valuable as a singular client, but Gabe insisted we try you on for size. After the last attack; after the mole.” Sombra shrugged, sharing Gabriel’s apparent apathy of the situation, “I realised I couldn’t use you dead.” The way she phrased it set Hanzo on edge. She’d pinpointed the crawling in his gut and the settling dread. 

Used. He felt used. After decades of his youth feeling it, bowing to it, it was a feeling he’d never wanted to touch again. 

He turned on his heel and started walking. 

“Hanzo!” He heard Genji shout behind him as Hanzo sped away, followed by Reyes’ hard voice, “Let him go.” 

So he ran. 

It took him ten minutes of hard sprinting before he realised he’d left Stormbow behind. His thoughts yet skittered dangerously around, testament to how he could possibly leave such a prized possession discarded. He shot Genji a text.

**Hanzo: take my bow home.**

**Genji: Hanzo I can explain all of this please** **  
** **Genji: Reyes has positively no tact** **  
** **Genji: Jesse really cares about you**

**Genji: I never gave them your details not once not ever** **  
** **Genji: Please Hanzo we have come so far in such a short time I do not wish to jeopardise that** **  
** The constant buzzing of his phone stopped him walking again and he pulled it out, glaring against the harsh light of it.

**Hanzo: Take my bow home.**

**Genji: ...got it, bro**

**Hanzo: I will meet you there later and you will explain everything**

**Genji: Yes! I will!**

As he put his phone away he looked up to where his feet had taken him. 

Jesse’s house stood before him.

_ “I’ll see you later, doll.”  _ McCree had said before Hanzo had left. They’d kissed briefly and Hanzo had held him close, like something to be cherished. Like perhaps though his home held no items of sentimental value, though he drank too much too often, though he hadn’t slept properly in over a decade he just maybe deserved it.

He hadn’t been able to tell McCree at the time that there had been no guaranteed ‘later.’ But now he knew that Jesse had already been aware. 

‘ _ Jesse really cares about you. _ ’ That’s what Genji’s text had said. As if he was worried that Hanzo would suddenly disbelieve everything he felt about the man in spurs and a cowboy hat.

That wasn’t it. 

He knocked twice, harshly. 

McCree opened the door with an expression that betrayed his knowledge.

Hanzo realised he was out of breath, that he was panting and a mess at Jesse’s door.

McCree raised his hands placatingly upon being faced with Hanzo’s death glare, “Now darlin’,’fore ya start--”

Hanzo was having none of that, tugging Jesse in sharply by the serape. 

“You were aware of what my job was this  _ entire time,”  _ he hissed lowly. 

Jesse’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Hold on now--”

“You.” He shook the serape a little, “Everytime. From the first time. You knew what my job was.”

“...That I did.”

“And yet you insisted on pestering me with incessant  _ questions _ and  _ assumptions _ .”

“That I also did.” Jesse seemed vexed, uncertain of how to handle the situation. As if he’d plotted it out in his head and Hanzo wasn’t following the script.

Hanzo pushed McCree away, freeing his grasp on the fabric. “You feel this between us do you not?” 

“You know I do darlin’.”

“Yet you test it so.”

Jesse’s eyes steeled slightly, even despite the smirk upon his face. “Funny thing is if I didn’t know what you were doin’ it’d driven me half wild. Not seeing you caring none for a me that didn’t know how you were gettin’ yourself hurt.” 

Hanzo paused at that, setting his jaw. “That is not the point.”

“That’s exactly the point, sugar. Let’s make this square now.” Jesse’s eyes glinted with something fierce and Hanzo suddenly found himself wondering just how much more of McCree he hadn’t met yet.

Jesse crowded his space, but Hanzo stood steadfast before him. “If it wasn’t for the job I don’t reckon I’d have offered you a drink.”

Hanzo called bullshit.   
“No?” He didn’t mean for it to sound as teasing as it did, he had intended for it to sound aggressive, perturbed. 

Jesse seemed just as taken aback as he, left searching for words, “N’ I gave the boss your number cause I figured you needed the help.”

Hanzo’s vanity flared indignantly. “I have never required assistance.”

Jesse rolled his eyes, “Sure. N’ I hate westerns.” 

They stared at each other for a few seconds, both scowling.

“You would have bought me a drink regardless.” Hanzo’s ego finally spoke up.

McCree raised a brow, “Oh really now?”

“Yes.” 

“N’ you’re so sure?”

“Yes.”

McCree’s mouth twisted but he opened the door wider and stepped into his home, swinging the thing open and gesturing Hanzo in. “Shit. Well, somethin’ for certain is that right now  _ I _ need a drink.” 

Hanzo walked in behind Jesse, making a beeline for the drinks cabinet once the door had shut behind him. 

He could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket but ignored it. 

“Why do you insist upon this?”

“On what, darlin’?” McCree rolled the word on his tongue through a smirk as he poured a tumbler of whiskey. 

“Standing your ground despite being completely incorrect.”

McCree laughed, “You tell me, honey.”

Hanzo growled, “You are insufferable.”

McCree put his drink down and turned around again, hands crossed over his chest. “Well dang, sweetheart. S’that so? Is this where we are now?”

Hanzo fell silent.

He was angry at Jesse for holding this from him but the source of that anger was confusing at best, and he couldn’t quite put a finger on what it meant to feel it. The word to describe it drifted to his mind and he let out a puff of air.

Betrayed. He felt betrayed. 

He trusted Jesse and it was turned against him. 

‘ _ He really cares about you’  _

The text from Genji drifted to mind again and Hanzo pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. 

When he looked up, McCree’s expression quickly switched from fearful to pensive as if he hadn’t wanted Hanzo to catch him looking like it. 

His heart ached with it. 

But something else in him screamed suddenly that Jesse was testing waters, being obtuse for the sake of being obtuse. 

“What are you scared of, Jesse?” 

McCree spluttered, “What?” 

“What is it you fear?” 

“Snakes.” McCree deadpanned. 

For perhaps one of the first times in his life Hanzo buried away his pride and took McCree’s hand. The man let him, which only went on to further affirm Hanzo’s suspicions. 

McCree’s jaw dropped open looking at Hanzo weave their fingers together.

“You ain’t mad?”

“I’m furious,” he replied calmly. 

“‘Cause I didn’t tell you?”

Hanzo shrugged, deflating, “We both had secrets.” 

McCree’s mouth twisted again ashe offered Hanzo his drink with his free hand. Hanzo gratefully took a swig. They stood like that for a second, and though Hanzo could still feel slight indignation burning in him he was begrudgingly placated by the feeling of Jesse’s thumb rubbing circles into his hand. 

In the sudden quiet, the vibrating of his phone grew unbearably loud. He pulled it out. 

Genji’s name was flashing on the front. He glanced at Jesse who nodded for him to answer.

“I told you we would talk when I got--” 

The sound of gunfire across the line interrupted him, Genji’s voice was panicked in the receiver, “ _ Hanzo _ ?” 

He pulled away from McCree and paced across the room worriedly, “Genji? What is going on?”

He could only make out words as Genji huffed them mid-run, “...Decoy--Trap. Don’t go home...Shimada….”

“Genji, are you safe?”

One clear word: “No.”

More gunfire in the background and the sound of the phone being dropped to the floor from the other end of the line. The sound of it smashing. And then a dead line.

Hanzo was left holding his phone in shock, taking a second to compose himself and dial in a familiar number. Thankfully, they answered.

“Sombra.”

Similar to how Genji had sounded, Sombra came across winded as she responded, “We’re going to need your help. Blackwatch HQ is under direct attack. Shimada have allied with another group, it’s a full blown siege. We’re all compromised. Tell Joel, he knows where to find us.”

“Joel?” Hanzo responded a second too late as Sombra hung up. McCree perked up interestedly

“That’s me.” 

Hanzo squinted at him.

“It’s a long story.”

He took the drink from McCree’s hand and downed it smoothly, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand as he placed the glass down and squared up to McCree.

“Blackwatch HQ is under attack. My brother is in danger.”

Jesse’s eyes widened. “Hell.”

“I am unarmed, I am going to need equipment. My home, however is apparently compromised and I can’t--” Hanzo could hear the beginnings of franticness touching the edges of his tone. 

“Hold up now, darlin’. Follow me.” On that McCree turned and walked past his bedroom, through a hallway and to a door at the end. It was unassuming, possibly a closet of some sort. 

McCree pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked it, the door opening with a click. McCree stood at its entrance, gesturing Hanzo in before him. Dubiously, Hanzo let his feet carry him over the threshold into what appeared to be a small armoury. 

“Take your pick,” McCree mumbled as Hanzo stared around in silenced awe. Loaded weapons mounted the walls, pieces of practical combat gear strewn around on cabinets and counters cluttered with various shells and types of ammo. A small stand stood to the side covered only in hunting knives of various thickness and length. 

He paced to a counter, silence still heavy in the weight of shock. As if being told McCree worked the mercenary position hadn’t truly hit him until he’d seen it. 

A heavy revolver lay on its side next to a used cleaning-pipe. The craftsmanship looked custom and the gun, as compared to the others, looked older and used in  the way only well loved possessions did. Hanzo recognised the buffed scrapes and oiled gleam in the revolver same as he would Stormbow, same as Genji would his katana. 

Beside the revolver lay something that had Hanzo furrow his brow and the breath leave his chest. From that moment it was as if time itself slowed and his ears rang with anticipation as Jesse came up behind him. Still his eyes remained locked on the gleaming metal of the two hoops.

“Those handcuffs would look g--” 

Hanzo span as quickly as humanly possible to slap a hand over McCree’s mouth. 

Both of them stared at each other in shock. 

The ringing in Hanzo’s ears still continued to permeate the heavy silence. 

Slowly, he lowered his hand from McCree’s mouth.

“What does this mean?” McCree eventually said.

Hanzo didn’t know how to answer.

McCree seemed panicked, “Does that mean I...Does that mean I said it? Are we...I still don’t have a soulmark. Am I your soulmate? You didn’t let me finish, it jus’ it was the natural thing to say I--” The panic in McCree’s tone intensified until Hanzo’s guilt broke his silence. 

“Does it matter?” 

McCree’s eyes widened before he broke into a small laugh, “Are you sayin’ you don’t want me to--”

Hanzo smacked McCree’s shoulder harshly, “You are a blinded fool if for a moment that is what you believe I think.”

“Then  _ why _ ?”

All his life he had waited for this. All his life he had imagined what may lead to such a phrase, how his soulmate would look, how they would sound. To have a soulmate suggested having someone that would love you incorrigibly, that they would love you incomprehensibly with no rhyme or reason. They just would. 

Hanzo had yearned for that for  _ years _ , uncompromised love. To know it, to feel it. His father had loved Genji, had loved his mother. Genji had loved his friends, loved Zenyatta. Hanzo had been left wanting. Always. Wondering why it was he clutched at love the same as one would grasp at smoke. Bitterness turned his years sour as he grew older, and for so long he had drifted aimlessly in a purgatory between emotion and feeling. 

“I already knew,” he said, not for the first time dropping a thought on McCree that he hadn’t fully anticipated saying outloud. But the longer it lingered in the unspoken silence between them, the more he knew it to be true. 

McCree’s eyes met his. “Darlin’..” 

“I knew, Jesse. I’ve known since perhaps the second time we met.” 

McCree seemed lost for words, so Hanzo took the opportunity to barrel on before courage failed him. “For so long I have been wandering alone. You spoke and it was as if I breathed after decades of not realising I was holding my breath.” He steeled himself, “I do not care to wonder why you don’t have one. I do not care for the soulmarks. What I care for is you.” 

With that Jesse was pushing into his space, crowding him onto the counter so he was sat on it. Hands ran along his sides as McCree kissed him. Hanzo wrapped his legs around Jesse’s waist, kissing fervently even as the other man mumbled between pecks, 

“I don’t deserve ya’ doll,” a kiss pressed to his cheek, “the shit I’ve done.” Another kiss to his forehead, “God almighty.” His tone was reverent and Hanzo wanted nothing more than to melt under his touch, but still they were wasting time.

He pushed Jesse away gently, reluctantly. “We need to go.” 

“Wait, jus’ one more thing, alright?” Jesse responded before brushing a hand along Hanzo’s cheek and pushing their lips together firmly. 

Hanzo’s eyes closed briefly before they parted and he got up and grabbed a pistol from the countertop as well as an ammo belt. As expected, Jesse grabbed for the revolver. 

It didn’t take them long to arm-up and prepare themselves. Jesse shrugged into a combat-chestplate and yet still insisted upon wearing his damn hat. 

“S’all about the presentation, sugar.” He laughed, and Hanzo shook his head, trying his hardest to deny fondness. 

They ended up taking Jesse’s bike and parking some ways away from HQ itself. They could hear gunshots the closer they got, running full tilt into the fray. Hanzo didn’t have the excuse of his bow to hold him in a defensive position. Alongside McCree he was to fight the front. 

Hanzo realised with a start that this place was incredibly close to the last match against the Shimada clan a little earlier. If that had been a distraction, then he could see how it had worked. They had successfully drawn out the best fighters, provided them with enough opposition that it wasn’t overly suspicious and taken the base in the meantime. The smell of blood and metal pervaded the air. 

McCree was fiddling with a com at his ear, hooking it up and tapping it twice, “Gabe, y’copy?” 

“ _ McCree _ .” He heard a voice answer. Jesse visibly caved in relief.

“Howdy boss, need a hand?” 

Reyes snorted, “ _ Archer with you? _ ” 

“That he is.” McCree nodded, pulling Hanzo in slightly behind the cover of a nearby wall. They crouched there together as Hanzo kept his eyes trained on the source of gunfire.

“ _ Good, last thing we need is you on a one-man kamikaze. _ ”

“Aw, shucks Gabe.”

“ _ Now’s not the time, kid. _ ”

Jesse’s face took a serious turn, “What do you need us to do?” 

“ _ We have two agents held hostage on the east wing of the base. Near your old bunk. Flank them. I have Genji and Lacroix here--” _

Hanzo leaned into McCree’s face, “Is he harmed?”

“ _ Genji will be fine.--” _

_ “ _ Is he  _ harmed _ ?” Hanzo growled.

“ _ Minorly. Fractured wrist. Too many men got the jump on him, Genji is decommissioned for now.  _ ”

Hanzo appreciated the honesty, it would have been easy for Reyes to lie. Satisfied with the answer Hanzo, leaned back and looked back out to the warehouse. 

“We’ll flank ‘em boss, you got it. What d’ya reckon our bets are lookin’ like?” McCree hedged.

“ _ I’m gonna be short with ya, kid. They aren’t looking fantastic. _ ” 

McCree shrugged at Hanzo and grinned jauntily, “We’ve worked with worse than that.” 

“ _ Hell yes we have. Call me in when you’re through and try not to get yourselves killed out there.” _

“Yes sir.” 

Hanzo pulled out his gun and held it akin to McCree’s who shot him another grin, eyes flashing dangerously with mirth. “Y’know how to shoot that thing, right?”

Hanzo tsked and stood, beginning the jog to the base itself. He could hear McCree at his back, catching up in long strides. They kept their bodies low and covered by darkness. Jesse soon took the lead, guiding Hanzo past the jutting corners of the building and to a stairwell leading downwards towards what outwardly appeared to be a cellar. 

“Blackwatch has been using the bar to pick up contracts for years.” McCree explained quietly as he opened the door and stepped in. Hanzo walked in besides him, senses sharp and alert. “It’s how we picked up Genji.” McCree snickered softly, “Took him two days ‘fore he realised Gabe was watching him. Tried to kill him. Agreed to the contract on the terms that--”

“They aid him with the Shimada-gumi,” Hanzo finished for him, voice pitched to barely a whisper even despite the distant sound of gunfire and shouts disguising them to anyone that may be nearby.

“Exactly.”

They fell into silence. The inside of the place was well-equipped and clean. A decent base of operations and one that had seen many a mission. 

“Been here since I was a kid,” McCree continued as they paced quietly through the corridor, “Gabe picked me up from a bad gang, he was working a police force at the time. Bailed me outta jail. Kinda just never left after that.” 

Hanzo was interested, he really was, wanted to know more about Jesse. He wanted to know everything about the man. But not then and there. Right now, they had a job to do.

He looked up at the light sound of clicking. McCree was tapping a nail against his gun to grab Hanzo’s attention and gestured to a large metal door with his head. He put a finger to his lips and a hand on the handle. 

He mouthed the next words.

_ One _ ,  _ two, three…  _

With that they burst through the doors, Hanzo realising they were obviously some sort of back entrance to a bigger communications room. They had the front guarded well but the back guarded poorly. 

Two men greeted them with surprised shouts. 

A crack of white as McCree tossed something at them and they stumbled at the sudden flash of light, shielding their eyes. McCree cocked the hammer of his revolver back and emptied the barrel into the two of them. Though a sight to behold Hanzo was already focussing on the next targets and assessing the layout of the situation in his head. Reyes was wrong--there were three hostages, tied up underneath a conference desk. Three men stood around them and Hanzo took a flying kick at the first, sending him toppling backwards and away from the gun placed on the table. The muzzle of Hanzo’s own pistol pressed to the man’s chest and he fired. 

The distraction had proven enough time for McCree to reload his revolver and drop another man. The third and final one put his hands up in surrender, dropping his weapon with a clatter. 

“ _ Please-- _ ” 

Hanzo interrupted him with a bullet to the head.

“Not half bad,” McCree grinned, cleaning the barrel of his gun with his serape even as Hanzo stooped to cut the men and women free from under the desk.

“Jesse. Nice of you to show up,” one of them grouched, rubbing the place where zip ties had bit at the skin of his wrists.

Jesse shrugged, tipping his hat cockily with a smirk. He placed a finger to his com, “Boss?”

“ _ Good, are you in? _ ”

“Did ya ever really doubt me?”

“ _ Can it, McCree. We’re being pushed back. All of you will need to move on our position if we have half a hope in hell of livin’ through to see tomorrow. _ ” 

Jesse’s voice dropped a little, the smile with it, “Where’s everyone else?” 

“ _ Dead or retreating. It’s bad, kid. _ ”

“Hold on Gabe, we’ll get there.”

He dropped his hand from his ear and turned to the freed hostages. Something in his eyes suggested that Jesse had as much to lose from this as Hanzo did. 

“We’re gonna be goin’ against a hell of a lot harder than a couple of thugs sat on a payout, kids. You wanna drop out now I sure as heck ain’t gonna stop you. Boss’ll be pissy if he dies though, reckon he’ll come back and pay you a visit. Damn reaper would have a hard time with that son of a gun.” 

No one moved, and the wicked grin crept back onto Jesse’s face. “Good. Let’s move out.” 

The three mercenaries moved forward, seemingly well aware of the hotspot of danger. Hanzo trailed behind, silently glad when McCree did the same, brushing the back of his hand with his own. “We’ll get your brother out.” 

“Genji is capable of escape, it has always been his forte. He is choosing to stay with your…’boss.’” 

“Genji’s like that, yeah.” 

Hanzo twisted his mouth in disgust muttering “Foolish” at the same time as McCree said “Brave.”

Jesse laughed, “Well ain’t that a fine summary.”

“Yes,” Hanzo relented, “I suppose it is.”

The first signal that the real fight for Blackwatch had begun was a bullet whizzing by Hanzo’s ear so close he could swear it almost clipped some of his hair on its way past. 

“Down!” One of the ally mercs shouted as she lifted the gun she’d pilfered from the corpse of a Shimada goon and near-enough emptied it in the direction of the bullet. A man shouted from across the way. They’d hit the main entranceway of the warehouse, a large room with metal beams above and trucks parked sparingly across the concrete ground. Stray spray of bullets ricocheted unpredictably from the metal around them and echoed dangerously across the space. 

Hanzo and McCree both dived behind a truck even as their allies split up to fight their own battles. 

Hanzo peered around a tire only to very nearly receive a bullet to the head for his troubles so he sat back, holding his gun up to his chest. Fingers beneath his chin broke his focus on deciding how he’d get the jump on the shooter. McCree pulled his face up towards him in a quick kiss amidst the sounds of shooting and death.

“See ya’ on the other side, darlin’.” He grinned before standing and running into a combat roll, unbelievably managing to keep his hat on for the duration. Hanzo could only sit and gape for a split second before he realised the advantage McCree had granted him.

He pulled out from behind cover and, as he’d predicted, the shooter was focusing attention instead on McCree. Hanzo lined up the shot and pulled the trigger. Though not a killing blow, he watched it drop the attacker. 

He moved forward. 

The battle waged on. They lost two of theirs in the process. One shot in the leg, stashed safely behind cover with a companion. The other not so fortunate as to have the opportunity to recover. 

Still, they had a goal in mind and before they knew it they were down to the last handful of attackers. 

“On yer’ left!” McCree shouted from somewhere besides him and he spun in time to miss a pistol-whip from a hostile. 

The man grunted in dissatisfaction and pitched himself forward, grappling with Hanzo. 

Hanzo kicked a knee up but the man hopped back in time. The man’s hand clenched around his wrist and Hanzo grimaced, kicking out the flat of his foot this time and thankfully connecting it with the attacker’s shin. 

Unfortunately, Hanzo didn’t recognise the feint for what it was. Thinking he had the upper hand he moved to pull his wrist away and shoot the enemy, but the man thought quicker, mimicking Hanzo’s previous failed attempt and successfully kneeing Hanzo in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him. 

His knees buckled and he dropped, even as the man fisted a hand in his hair and pulled his head up to look him in the eye. “ _ The elders warned you, Hanzo. They won’t stop until you and your brother are both dead, _ ” the man spoke in smooth Japanese. The gun pushed underneath his chin and Hanzo continued scowling.

He spat at the floor besides him. “ _ Damn the elders,” _ he replied, awaiting the gunshot.

Although he didn’t expect to hear it.

He did.

The gun dropped from underneath his chin and the hand in his hair went limp. Hanzo barely had the sense to move away before his attacker toppled forward, blood spurting weakly from the hole in his forehead.

He turned around just in time to see Jesse spin his revolver and holster it.

“Y’alright?” 

Hanzo blinked, still shell shocked.

“Yes.” He remained still on the floor as Jesse paced forward and offered him a hand, he accepted it, pulling himself up. McCree leaned forward just slightly and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Figured I might lose you for a second there.” He sounded eerily calm. 

“Let’s finish this.” Hanzo shook the panic from his bones and moved to the last door of the room. It was locked, and signs of it almost being kicked in were evident. Truly it seemed they had arrived just in time. 

McCree placed a steady hand to his com, “How ya doin’ in there boss?”

The door unlocked and opened to a bloodied-looking Gabriel Reyes. “If your ugly mug isn’t the best damn thing I’ve ever seen--” He was cut off by a tall woman pacing past him holding a beat-up sniper rifle followed by Genji practically hurtling himself out of the door and directly into Hanzo’s chest. Genji placed a hand on Hanzo’s arm, the other held close to his own chest and strapped up in what looked to be Reyes’ grey jacket from earlier.    
“Brother? Are you alright? Were you hurt?” He fired questions at Hanzo who just silently admitted to himself he was glad to see Genji alive.

“I am fine.” 

They all stood there for a little while checking each other. Soon enough several others came out of the woodwork. 

“This ain’t the end of it.” Gabriel spoke up after a while, turning a hard gaze on Hanzo, “We’ll have down time for a long while after this but they sure as hell ain’t gonna let it lie. You’re gonna have to figure out whether you want to start running again. Or join us.” 

“Give me time,” Hanzo replied vaguely, looking between Jesse and Genji. 

After the recent events, they seemed content enough that the answer wasn’t a flat out no. 

“Hey, Lacroix?” McCree spoke up after the tall woman as she began sauntering away, rifle still close at hand. 

“ _ Quoi? _ ” She shot over her shoulder in a soft accent.

“Thanks for watchin’ out for ‘em.” 

They shared a knowing look before the smallest trace of a smile touched her lips and she continued walking away. Hanzo turned to McCree questioningly but he simply shrugged. “Let’s go to the bar and grab a drink. I ain’t half thirsty. ‘Sides, figure Genji and I have some tales to tell.” 

They all muttered assent between each other, Gabe jogging forward to meet up with the injured still on site and Sombra cropping up from out of nowhere with a phone clutched to her cheek. 

They had just left the HQ when the gunshot rang out. 

_ Bang _ .

McCree fell. 

Genji tipped down with him, having been pulling at his serape mockingly at the time. Hanzo looked up in time to see their attacker. A shot straggler, injured and limping. He had his gun raised to shoot again.

Another shot. 

Louder than before.

Their attacker fell. 

Hanzo’s eyes landed on the woman from before, face pulling away from the scope of her rifle as she assessed the corpse. 

Hanzo’s heart felt like it had stopped.

He could hear Reyes’ shouting voice and Genji yelling back but could only watch in horror as red seeped from Jesse’s chest and onto the concrete below. 

His world felt like it was shattering, coming apart at the seams. 

He dropped to his knees beside McCree, bundling up the man’s serape and pressing it to the wound so as to desperately attempt to staunch the flow of blood.    
“Ambulance,” he hissed, Genji’s panicked eyes meeting his, “ _ Call an ambulance _ !” He slipped into Japanese. He could hear Sombra’s voice somewhere in the background insisting they were already on their way, that she had people working on it. 

Gabriel dropped next to him, swearing sharply in spanish.

Though it felt like time itself was irrelevant, at the same time everything was going too quickly. Like some strange in between of life and death. As Jesse’s heart beat weakly below his hands he wondered if this was why the man didn’t have a soulmark. 

 

When the ambulances arrived it took Genji, Reyes and a paramedic to wrestle Hanzo away from McCree’s inert form, sure that if he took his hands away that Jesse would bleed out. He’d gone so pale, lips slightly parted and face soft with unconsciousness. There were several people loading injured people in the vehicles. Gabe offered to drive them to the hospital and Hanzo followed in a stupefied daze. 

“They’ll blame it on terrorists,” Gabriel spoke up on the way there, “S’what Sombra does.” 

Hanzo couldn’t breathe.

They waited in the hospital for hours. Gabe was allowed in as he was written in as Jesse’s first of kin. Neither Genji nor Hanzo held as much importance. 

Several people stood around them, waiting on the state of those hurt. As hours drifted by some left sobbing, some left relieved. 

Hanzo and Genji remained. 

“He’ll be alright. You need to drink something.” He refused the proffered water from his brother’s hand, “No news is good news, right?” 

Hanzo wished he could agree. 

 

“He’s stable.” A doctor finally announced to them, blonde hair tied up around a fair face and blue eyes tired. Hanzo’s heart leapt into his throat as he hastily got to his feet, “Is he awake? Can we see him?”

She sighed with a soft smile, “You can see him but I don’t imagine he’ll wake for some time.” 

Reyes was already in there when they entered, half asleep on the chair next to Jesse’s bed. The covers were pulled down to Jesse’s waist, revealing his bandaged torso. 

“Had to cut him open to get the bullet out, some complication or somethin’” Gabe muttered tiredly.

“We are here now, Reyes. You should update Blackwatch. We will watch him.” Genji spoke up in the lack of Hanzo’s words. In truth, he didn’t trust himself to talk.

“Right,” Gabe muttered, dragging himself up. He clapped Genji on the shoulder on the way out, flashed one more look at Jesse before leaving the room. 

Genji gestured to the chair and Hanzo took it gratefully. 

“Go home to Zen.” Hanzo finally whispered as he took McCree’s hand in his own. 

Genji seemed torn. “Will you be alright?” 

Hanzo sighed deep relief and settled back, taking a sip from the cup of water at Jesse’s bedside. “I will be fine.” 

“Alright, brother.”

Genji left, and exhaustion crept into Hanzo’s vision swiftly after, dragging him down into unwilling sleep. 

 

It was the faint squeezing of his hand that roused him. He’d slumped half-forward, elbow resting awkwardly against the bedside. He blinked drowsiness from his eyes and met a weary smile. 

“Howdy,” Jesse rasped.

Hanzo silently brought Jesse’s hand to his lips and kissed it, pressed his face to it.

“How’d’ya feel ‘bout movin’ in with me?” He rumbled tiredly, and Hanzo barked a quiet laugh.   
“How domestic.”

“We could buy some fish. Maybe a dog? I’ve always wanted a dog.” 

Hanzo could barely tell if it was medication evoking Jesse’s delirious muttering or genuine sudden appreciation for his mortality. He didn’t care either way, leaning forward to press a kiss to Jesse’s forehead. 

“Sleep, Jesse. I am with you.”

 

Genji had almost left the hospital when a woman’s voice caught him. “Genji!”

He spun and grinned widely, “Angela!” 

She huffed, waving off his greeting, “Were you aware of Jesse’s soulmark?” 

Genji frowned. “That he doesn’t have one?” 

Angela laughed, throwing her head back and shaking it. “Ah, you see that’s what  _ I  _ thought. You can imagine I was a little bit surprised when I saw it.” She smiled.

Genji continued frowning in confusion “...Angie what are you saying?” 

She grinned, “I don’t believe I’ve seen a new soulmark for ten years. They’re similar to tattoos. They look brighter the newer they are.”

“ _ Angela? _ ” 

“The gunshot almost clipped it. It truly is marvellous how fate works.”

 

Everyone’s soulmarks appeared at different times in their lives. Jesse McCree’s just so happened to appear at 37 years of age, written in careful strokes of kanji across his chest. As calculated and purposeful as the man the writing belonged to. 

“I do not care to wonder why you don’t have one. I do not care for the soulmarks. What I care for is you.”

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is!  
> A massive thank you to [Tsol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorQui/pseuds/DoctorQui) for being such a patient beta and frankly just an inspiration.   
> Also another thanks to [acrxphxbia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/acrxphxbia/pseuds/acrxphxbia) for the Spanish in there.   
> also shout out to everyone on the Shipwatch discord that had to deal with my constant griping about finishing this chapter and not dying in the process  
> This fic started out as an exercise that spiralled swiftly into madness but I sure hope y'all enjoyed the ride.   
> Hit me up on [tumblr](http://mccrees-left-arm.tumblr.com/)  
> And as always, thanks for reading!


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